“Go ahead,” I told him. “I can give you the name of the man who runs the gasoline station where we rented a cabin.”
“What does he know about it?”
“He told me this morning that he heard my wife and the other man drive away in the night.”
Kleinsmidt said, “Too bad. I don’t think you’re looking well. You need a good rest. We have the best climate in the west right here in Las Vegas. We’d hate to have you leave us again unexpectedly. I’m going to make arrangements to see that you don’t.”
I said, “Well, don’t be in a hurry about it. Here’s something for you to run down first.”
“What?”
“Remember Paul Endicott, Whitewell’s right-hand man?”
“Naturally.”
“I don’t know whether you heard Whitewell say so, but was going to give his son a partnership interest when he got married. You know, the income-tax people get funny ideas about those things. When the new partnership was organized, they’d want an audit of the books, even if Whitewell didn’t.”
I saw Kleinsmidt’s eyes showing interest.