Elgin yawned.
There was silence in the room. A fly was buzzing around in sleepy circles, looking for a patch of sunlight and not finding any.
Elgin reached for another cigarette. “Want one?”
“No, thanks?”
“What’s the professional angle?”
“I don’t know. She may be mixed up in a case I’m investigating.”
“What sort of a case?”
“Suicide. A love-tryst. It’s in the papers,” I said, jerking my hand towards the folded newspapers.
“Never read that kind of crap,” Elgin said. “I look at the foreign news, then study the sporting pages, particularly the horse race stuff. Lots of times you can get a chance for a good gag on a horse race.”
“You don’t read the funnies?” I asked.