Most Finns
can speak Swedish, and Rand was wishing he could understand it. The
corporal's remarks ran to about a paragraph, and must have been downright
incendiary. At least, Olsen seemed to catch fire from them. He rose in
his seat, waving his arms and howling back in the same language.
"Shut up, goddammit, _shut up_!" McKenna bellowed into his face. "Shut up
before I sling your ass to hell out of this car! I'm talking, and I don't
want any goddam jaw from you, Olsen. You either," he barked at Kavaalen,
winking at him at the same time.
Silence fell with a heavy thump in the car.
"Well, now that the international crisis seems to have been averted,
how's about letting me in on it, too?" Rand asked. "For instance, what
about Gresham? What's he supposed to be a suspect for?"
"Ah, Olsen suspects him of chopping Rivers up," McKenna replied wearily.
"See, we questioned this Cecil Gillis, and he told us that last evening,
as he was leaving Rivers's, he saw Stephen Gresham drive up and go into
the shop. I wanted to talk to him, myself; I thought he might account for
the cigar-ashes, and the drink-fixings on that table. But when Farnsworth
heard about the killing, he sent Olsen around, and when Olsen heard that
Gresham had been there, he tried him and convicted him on the spot.
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