“Yes, it is,” Jack agreed, noticing that the heel print was identical with one made by the shoe Walz wore.
“Those prints don’t mean a thing. I’ve been in and out of that cabin several times this morning. Fancy yourselves detectives, eh?”
“No,” Ken told him evenly, “but we’d like to find out who attacked Stony. You reported the affair to the police?”
“The police were out here this morning. Reckon they heard about it from the hospital.”
“Any suspects?”
“Not a one. Police are satisfied the motive was robbery. Probably some hoodlum who met Stony was taken in by his story of having great wealth.”
“You’re satisfied it was only a yarn?” Jack asked, watching the motel owner’s face intently.
“About the gold? Sure. He had only that one nugget.”
“And the map?”
Walz eyed Jack shrewdly. “Well, the old goat might have had a map,” he conceded. “If so, he hid it in a good place. He didn’t give you any hints, did he?”