Olivia held the cigarette-holder away from her lips and wet them with the sharp tip of her tongue. “What makes you think that?”
“The whole set-up looks phony. I’m wondering if you hadn’t some other reason for a divorce all along.” He crushed out his cigarette, dropping his gaze from hers.
“If you thought that, why did you come here intimating that I had something to do with Nora Carson’s death?”
“Did I intimate that?” Shayne looked surprised. Then he spread out his hands. “Well, a detective has to follow every lead. You’ll admit you had your husband fooled, too.”
“John.” Her voice was venomous. “If I’d known he was going to take it as he did—”
“You would have told him your true reason?” Shayne finished for her.
“Yes. That I hate him. That I’m tired of having no life of my own — every penny grudgingly doled out to me.”
“You’re a wealthy woman.”
Her thin mouth twisted scornfully. “My husband is a wealthy man,” she contradicted. “Oh, I can have charge accounts at all the stores and he doesn’t look at the bills. But let me ask for a penny of cash—” She raised her hands in horror and rolled her eyes upward.
Shayne’s gray eyes twinkled around the luxuriously appointed room. “This isn’t a bad little love-nest.”