There was a long silence. Neither of the men looked at each other. Maurer continued to smoke his cigar, his face thoughtful. Gollowitz waited, his hands clasped behind his back, his mouth hard and set.
“I shouldn’t have used Paretti,” Maurer said suddenly. “That was a mistake. I always thought he was the best man I had. Imagine leaving that sketch-plan where it could be found.”
Gollowitz shut his eyes, opened them and drew in a deep breath.
“Are you telling me you killed that woman — yourself?” he said huskily.
Maurer looked up, his heavy eyebrows lifting.
“It gave me a lot of pleasure. I warned her. I told her to keep away from Jordan. She promised, but all the time she was seeing him: a dirty, mugglesmoker like him!”
“Why the hell did you have to do it yourself?” Gollowitz said fiercely. “Don’t you realize this is just what Forest has been waiting for? For years you’ve kept in the clear. You’ve never given him an opening. You don’t imagine he’s going to pass up such an opportunity, do you? If you wanted to get rid of her, why didn’t you let Louis handle it?”
Maurer smiled.
“It was a personal tiling, Abe,” he said patiently. “It gave me a lot of satisfaction. You should have seen her face when she saw me. She knew. For all her looks, her poise, her fame, she had no courage. You should have seen her. You should have seen her eyes.” He smiled again; a smile that sent a chill down Gollowitz’s fat spine. “You should have heard her scream. It was a personal thing: I wouldn’t have missed doing it for anything in the world.”
Gollowitz rubbed his hand over his sweating face.