Over cups of instant coffee and a plate of Jamie’s white-chocolate chip cookies, Hugh and Holly settled themselves on the sofa. “So what’d you find out?” Holly demanded. “Tell me.” But he refused to be rushed, and opened a folder and withdrew several photocopied sheets. “I came across a newspaper interview with an ex-New York City policeman, Tony LoBianco. He was imprisoned in 1931 for racketeering and false arrest, among other things.” He handed one of the sheets over to Holly. She glanced at it. “But...this is dated 1962. And what’s Tony what’s-his-name got to do with Daisy?” “If you’d read, and stop asking questions, Miss James,” Hugh said sternly, “you’d see that the former lieutenant confessed on his deathbed that he was the one who tipped off Clyde Caruso the night of the Speakeasy Massacre.” Holly shivered. “Is that what they called it? Dad told me a little about it. It happened right here, didn’t it?” Darcy nodded. “Five men were gunned down in the basement – that’s where the nightclub was – with Thompson sub-machine guns, or ‘Tommy guns,’ as they were called.
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