I filled him in, including a description of the murder vehicle, but couldn’t describe the people within at all. I wasn’t even sure how many of them there were.

“You get the license number?”

“No, damnit.”

“Why not? You saw the car well enough.”

“Them shooting at me interfered.”

He nodded. “Fair enough. Shit. Too bad you didn’t get a look at ’em.”

“Too bad. But you know who to go calling on.”

“How’s that?”

I thrust a finger toward the car. “That’s Boss Rooney’s work-maybe not personally, but he had it done. You know about the Circular Union and the hassles they been giving Goldblatt’s, right?”

Pribyl nodded, somewhat reluctantly; he liked me well enough, but I was a private detective. He didn’t like having me in the middle of police business.

“Heller, we’ve been keeping the union headquarters under surveillance for six weeks now. I saw Rooney there today, myself, from the apartment across the way we rented.”

“So did anyone leave the union hall tonight? Before the shooting, say around three?”

He shook his head glumly. “We’ve only been maintaining our watch during department-store business hours. The problem of night attacks is where hired hands like you come in.”

“Okay.” I sighed. “I won’t blame you if you don’t blame me.”

“Deal.”

“So what’s next?”

“You can go on home.” He glanced toward the Ford. “We’ll take care of this.”

“You want me to tell the family?”

“Were you close to them?”

“Not really. They’re from my old neighborhood, is all.”

“I’ll handle it.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.” He patted my shoulder. “Go home.”

I started to go, then turned back. “When are you going to pick up Rooney?”

“I’ll have to talk to the State’s Attorney, first. But my guess? Tomorrow. We’ll raid the union hall tomorrow.”