“He wouldn’t say,” Radabaugh explained.
Wint nodded. “I suppose not. What then?”
“We-ell, I scouted around.”
“Find out anything?”
“Skinny Marsh had a skinful, too. And there was a drunk in the Weaver House when I drifted over there.”
“Is it Mrs. Moody that’s selling?”
Radabaugh shook his head. “I guess not.”
Wint banged his desk. “Damn it, Jim! Who is it, then?”
“I couldn’t say.”
“Well, I want you to find out.”