“Donald Lam, what do you think you’re doing? He’s a client. You can’t accuse him of anything.”
I said, “No, but if we hold this back for a little while, he’ll start putting pressure to bear here and there to see that the letter does get delivered into our hands. When he starts moving around, he’s got to get out in the open enough so we can catch him red-handed.”
“Then what?”
I said, “We’d know more about it then.”
“Donald,” she said, “you’re going overboard again. You’re thinking about Corla Burke’s broken heart.”
“I’d like to see her get a square deal. She’s up against a wealthy man who evidently has used some form of blackmail.”
“What did he do?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think she’d have quit for money. I think Whitewell’s the sort who would put her on the wheel and break her a bit at a time, body and soul. He’d torture anyone who got in his way.”
“Donald, how can you say such things? He’s a nice man.”
“He’s nice when he wants to be, but he’s ruthless when it comes to getting what he wants.”