Irby had said facetiously "sell your wife." God, if only he could sell her. What a mistake it had been for him ever to have married in the first place. A sudden thought came to him: that damn Greek she worked for was soft on her. Maybe—No, it wouldn't work; Mikos wouldn't lend him money, soft on Ruth or not. Mikos would want him to get into trouble, bad enough trouble so Ruth would leave him and give Mikos a free field with her.
But there had to be an answer.
He stared down into his highball, looking for one.
11:16 P.M.
This is the transcript of a conversation that might possibly have happened. If you believe in such things you'll come to see that it could have happened. If you do not believe, it doesn't matter.
"He is set up, Sire. Everything is ready when you say the word."
"You're sure he is sufficiently frightened, sufficiently desperate?"
"Yes, Sire."
"Ready for murder? Remember, he has committed every other sin, but he has not ever thought of murder. Not seriously, that is."
"Only because, Sire, he has known that he could not get away with it. Now we present him with the perfect opportunity. A chance to kill his wife in such a way that it cannot possibly be pinned on him. A method by which, if he alibis himself as he will, will not even cause him to be suspected."