“Would you be surprised to know that my brother is at this moment flying to Paris?”
“He isn’t! It was a trick. O’Brien planned to murder him. He persuaded your brother to write a note to you so you should believe he had gone to Paris.”
“This gets more and more complicated as we go along, doesn’t it?” she said, moving over to the sideboard. “Are you telling me that Sean O’Brien was planning to murder Johnny?”
“I know it sounds fantastic,” Ken said, worried by her obvious suspicion, “but if I told you the whole story…”
“That won’t be necessary,” she said, jerking open a drawer in the sideboard. She dipped into it, turned to face him, an automatic in her hand. “Don’t move! You’re lying! I know who you are! You’re the man the police are looking for! You killed Fay Carson!”
II
The telephone began to ring as O’Brien entered the lounge.
“Get it,” he said impatiently to Sullivan, and crossed the room to the liquor cabinet.
Sullivan picked up the receiver, listened, grimaced and looked over at O’Brien, who was mixing himself a highball.
“Police Captain Motley,” Sullivan said. “Want to talk to him, boss?”