“Take it easy, Captain,” Maurer said, looking up and smiling. “I don’t think for a moment he has skipped, but even if he had, this cockeyed evidence of Conrad’s wouldn’t stand up in court. What have you got to worry about? I’m not worrying.”
“What else is there?” Gollowitz snapped, sensing that McCann hadn’t told them the worst of it.
“The guard who checks in all visitors to Miss Arnot’s place enters their names in a book,” McCann said, speaking slowly and deliberately. “At seven o’clock on the night of the killing a girl named Frances Coleman called to see Miss Arnot. We’re looking for her now, and she will be arrested as a material witness. Conrad thinks she may have seen the killer.”
Maurer looked at the glowing end of his cigar. A muscle in his cheek suddenly began to twitch, otherwise his face was expressionless.
There was a tight tension in the room.
Seigel lit a cigarette, his eyes on the back of Maurer’s head. He licked his lips as if they had gone suddenly dry.
Gollowitz stared down at his hands, frowning.
McCann’s hard little eyes took in each man, watching his reactions, a grinding, rising fury inside him made him feel short of breath.
“Well, say something!” he snarled. “Is this something Gollowitz can take care of?”
Maurer looked up. The flat snake’s eyes glowed as if they were on fire, and under his direct look, McCann’s eyes gave ground.