“I stood right there with cold sweat breaking out all over me,” Leeds said, talking more rapidly now as he warmed to the story. “Then I realized what a sweet spot I was in. I’d messed around there altogether too much. So I took my silk handkerchief, polished off the doorknobs I’d touched, and beat it.”
“Did you leave the door open?”
“No. I wanted to delay the discovery of the body as long as possible so we could clear out. I pulled the door shut. The spring lock clicked into place.”
“How long was it after your uncle had left the apartment when you went in?”
“Perhaps ten or fifteen seconds, just long enough for Uncle Alden to walk rapidly to the elevator and start down in the cage.”
“How long were you in there?”
“Not over two minutes.”
“To whom have you told this?” Mason asked.
“Not a living soul except Inez.”
Mason glanced significantly at Paul Drake, then looked over to where Della Street, catching up with her fountain pen on the rapid-fire conversation, held her hand poised over the shorthand notebook.