“It’s not much: youngish, about thirty-three, tall, dark and good-looking. Wearing a light-grey suit and matching hat.”
“Hmm, won’t help you much, will it?” O’Brien said, bringing two more drinks to the table.
“It’s better than nothing,” Howard said, taking the drink. “A case like this is always tough to crack. There’s usually no motive.”
O’Brien sat down again.
“This could give Burt an excuse to start trouble. Have you talked to Fabian yet?”
“Not yet. There’s nothing he can do, anyway. It’s up to me. If I find the killer fast we should be all right. What worried me was hearing the house was a call-house.”
O’Brien smiled.
“Well, I’ve taken care of that for you, so you can relax.”
“Yes,” Howard said uneasily. “Are there any more call-houses belonging to you in town?”
“There may be,” O’Brien returned carelessly. “I own a lot of property. There may be.”