I pretended to think for a minute.

“Everyone,” I answered. “People I passed on the street. The deli lady. At least three different winos…”

“Milo,” Korby interjected, “it’s late.”

“…and everybody I know on the police force and at the D.A.’s office.”

“Names, please,” Korby asked.

“They’ll be here soon. You can meet them,” I said, hoping it was true.

“Joanne Ranson, Hutch Mackenzie, at best,” Lafitte supplied. “It didn’t get beyond them. I had Ranson’s line bugged. She’s a lesbian, isn’t she?” he asked with a salacious expression.

“Joanne?” I didn’t want to play his game. “I’ve been trying to get her in bed for years, but there have always been too many men around for me to even get a chance. How many times did she turn you down?”

“The D.A.’s office, Miss Knight? Please explain,” Korby asked, evidently not interested in Joanne’s sex life. Lafitte had obviously propositioned her and she had just said no.

“A bluff,” I replied. I was not going to give away Danny.

“That’s not a satisfactory answer, I’m afraid. Milo, jog Miss Knight’s memory.”

“I always forget things when I get punched. Particularly names,” I quickly told him. I guess he didn’t believe me.

Milo hit me in the stomach, hard enough to double me over. I had tightened my stomach muscles, like you’re supposed to, but it didn’t seem to help much. In karate we would occasionally have classes in which you would stand still and let another person hit you. The idea was to find out what it felt like to be hit and to learn that you could take a punch.

Milo belted me again in the stomach.

No one in karate had ever hit as hard as he did. The blow staggered me. I would have fallen if the two thugs weren’t holding my arms.

“No! Stop it! You bastard!” Cordelia yelled.

She jumped between me and Milo. One of the nameless goons grabbed her arm to pull her away, but she wrenched free from him.

“How dare you! My grandfather was your friend. At a time when a lot of people weren’t. You’ll never get this property if you hit her again,” she spat at Korby.

“I’m sorry this distresses you, my dear. But I’m afraid some unpleasantness is required by the situation. However, if you can convince your friend to tell us what she knows, perhaps we can avoid the worst of it,” Korby spoke in his lizard-like tone.

“Let me talk to her alone,” Cordelia asked.

“That’s not possible. You have a minute. Do your best,” Korby finished.

Cordelia turned to face me. I tried to stand up straight for her sake. My arms were still being held.

“Let her go,” she said, but the order didn’t come from Milo or Korby, so the goons ignored it. “Micky…I’m sorry you’re here.” Then she stopped, just looking into my eyes. “I’m sorry,” she shook her head. She reached out and touched my cheek briefly, an aborted gesture in front of all these onlookers.

“Time’s up. Milo, continue,” Korby ordered.

“No!” Cordelia protested, but two thugs muscled her away. “Damn you!” she cried, still struggling.

Milo hit me again, this time on the jaw. I felt the stinging smart of a cut lip and blood started dripping down my chin.

“Frankie told me some other things, too,” I said, spitting out blood. Milo moved back, waiting for me to talk. “He told me how you liked to dress up with him, Milo. He said you were pretty good at it and that you really liked lacy, pink bras.”

“You fucking dyke,” he exploded, hitting me in the stomach and the chest in quick succession. But he was angry and sloppy and he got a little too close. They weren’t holding my legs. I kicked him as hard as I could in the balls. He bent over, grabbing his groin. I kicked again, before the goons holding me could react. Milo wouldn’t be punching me anymore. At least one of his hands had to be broken.

I got hit between the shoulder blades with the butt of a pistol for my efforts. The second blow knocked the air out of my lungs. I hung suspended between the two men, a sharp, mounting pain in my back. Suddenly they let go of me and I fell heavily to the floor. I lay there, gasping for breath, like a fish in the sand.

“Easy,” Cordelia knelt beside me. She had broken away from whoever was holding her. “Relax, if you can.” She put her hand on the back of my neck, calming me enough to get my breath. “Tell them,” she said. “They’ll kill you if you don’t.”

“They’ll kill me anyway,” I rasped out. “Better a dead hero than a dead coward.”

“Not like this.”

“Sorry I got here too late.”

“I haven’t time for this.” Korby’s reptilian voice cut in. “You are a very stubborn lady, Miss Knight. Perhaps we should try a different approach. Perhaps it will be harder for you to watch someone else being hit than to be hit yourself. You don’t want to see Miss James hurt, now do you?”

“You shit,” I choked out. I grabbed on to Cordelia and tried to hold her, but his thugs pulled her away. One of them slapped her hard across the face, then again from the other side.

“No! Stop it!” I yelled. They froze, waiting. “I admit it, I killed Jimmy Hoffa, not to mention kidnapping the Lindbergh baby.” The thug raised his hand again. “Joanne Ranson,” I said, preventing the blow from landing. “Hutch Mackenzie. I saw you kill him, you bastard. I don’t know who they told.”

“Me. I’m the only one,” Lafitte interjected.

“The D.A.’s office, Miss Knight.”