Fritz looked at me, hiding behind Bill. He hesitated, and then
admitted, “Yes, he was in here a little while ago. Guess he’s gone over
to Gustaff’s to get a shave.”
“Well, if he comes in, tell him I’m looking for him.”
We drove to Gustaff’s barber shop. Again, Bill went in first, and I lingered at
the door. He asked not only the Swede but two customers if they had seen
Lutkins. The Swede had not. He said angrily, “I haven’t seen him, and don’t
care to. But if you find him you can just collect that dollar thirty-five, he
owes me.” One of the customers thought he had seen Lutkins walking
down Main Street, this side of the hotel.