“I guess not. A nut invariably strangles and then rips them. She was stabbed. Doc thinks she may have known the guy because she was stabbed from the front. She must have seen him, and yet she didn’t cry out. At least, no one heard anything.”
Howard selected another cigar, bit off the end and spat angrily into his trash basket.
“We’ve got to get this killer fast. Donovan’s okay on the routine stuff, but fast work isn’t his strong point. I’m relying on you to crack this case, Adams. Hold your own investigation. Never mind what Motley and Donovan are doing. Get after this killer and nab him. There could be a shake-up here before long, and if you crack this one, you might do yourself a lot of good.”
The two men looked at each other.
Adams’ thin, pinched face was expressionless, but inside he was experiencing a surge of triumph.
“The Captain will know what I’m up to sir,” he said. “He could block me off.”
“I’ll tell him you are working for me,” Howard said. “You have orders from me to investigate and produce a report on the vice set-up in this town. I’ll need the report, anyway. Get someone to do the’ leg-work; you concentrate on this killing. I’ll let you have duplicates of all reports sent in by Donovan. Now get moving: I want some action.”
“You’ll get it, sir,” Adams said, and went out of the room.
For some moments Howard sat staring at his blotter, then he got up, went to the door and half opened it.
“I’m going over to City Hall,” he told his secretary. “I’ll be back in an hour.”