It certainly had its comic side.
Except that they kept hitting me in the face and ribs and the way I was tied onto the hood of the squad car was not comfortable.
And they had a game. It seems all three of them smoked cigars and in this game they tried to figure out every possible way to use me for an ash tray. Sometimes the cigars went out. But they lighted them again and kept inventing new ways and places to stub out the cigars. They had plenty of matches. I stuck to my story—I knew nothing about the burglary—and it was a true story and they didn’t like it, but what they disliked particularly was I had killed two of their buddies, and wouldn’t tell who was with me when I did it. It surprised me that I would cover for Virginia. But then, if I’d said a gorgeous blonde was with me, that wouldn’t have changed my status as an ash tray because it didn’t sound like the truth. You don’t think of gorgeous blondes and grocery-store robberies at the same time. And, further, she hadn’t asked to come to Masonville where we got in all the trouble, she’d wanted to stay with the green canvas hat and the Heavenly Hash. Let her grow fat and spend her money and find her way back to Beekman Place. Again I lost consciousness.
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