“The boss got bumped off,” I said. “Man named Montgomery. Somebody broke his neck.”

“May the Lawd receive his soul, brother.” Down went the voice again. “Cop?”

“Private — on a confidential lay. And I know a man who can keep things confidential when I see one.”

He studied me, then closed his eyes and thought. He reopened them cautiously and stared at the spinning coin. He couldn’t resist looking at it.

“Who done it?” he asked softly. “Who fixed Sam?”

“A tough guy out of the jailhouse got sore because it wasn’t a white joint. It used to be, it seems. Maybe you remember?”

He said nothing. The coin fell over with a light ringing whirr and lay still.

“Call your play,” I said. “I’ll read you a chapter of the Bible or buy you a drink. Say which.”

“Brother, I kind of like to read my Bible in the seclusion of my family.” His eyes were bright, toadlike, steady.

“Maybe you’ve just had lunch,” I said.

“Lunch,” he said, “is something a man of my shape and disposition aims to do without.” Down went the voice. “Come ‘round this here side of the desk.”

I went around and drew the flat pint of bonded bourbon out of my pocket and put it on the shelf. I went back to the front of the desk. He bent over and examined it. He looked satisfied.

“Brother, this don’t buy you nothing at all,” he said. “But I is pleased to take a light snifter in your company.”

He opened the bottle, put two small glasses on the desk and quietly poured each full to the brim. He lifted one, sniffed it carefully, and poured it down his throat with his little finger lifted.

He tasted it, thought about it, nodded and said: “This come out of the correct bottle, brother. In what manner can I be of service to you? There ain’t a crack in the sidewalk ‘round here I don’t know by its first name. Yessuh, this liquor has been keepin’ the right company.” He refilled his glass.