Adams shook his head.
“He told you because he wasn’t going to marry you,” he said quietly. “You might have hesitated to marry Miss Dorman if you knew she had a murder on her hands. Dorman was financially interested in your marriage, wasn’t he?”
“You can’t make this charge stick,” O’Brien said, his face tightening. “You’re going to drop it!”
“In a week I’ll have a case no attorney can upset, and I’m not dropping it.”
O’Brien set the lighter down. His hand jumped to the gun, whipped it up, and, turning, he covered Adams.
“Don’t make a move unless you want a slug in you!” he rasped. He looked at Ken, who still stood against the door. “Get over there with him!”
Ken obeyed.
Adams appeared completely unruffled.
“This won’t get you anywhere, O’Brien,” he said. “She can’t beat the rap: not with those two stiffs in her kitchen. Maybe she might have wriggled out of the Carson killing, but those two in there fixes it.”
“That’s what you think,” O’Brien said. “But you haven’t my talent for organization. You may be a smart cop, but you’ve still got a hell of a lot to learn.”