“I don’t. Not the way he makes it sound. I was up there, sure. I had a run-in with Margo. I got sore at her for junking me, but I never killed her.”
“Why’d you get Lucile and me here?” Shayne asked harshly. “You’d heard the word passed around by Denton that I was dynamite. You know I’ve had a yen from years back to hang something on him.”
“I didn’t know anything about it. I didn’t know you were coming with Lucile.”
Soule said, “Lucile?”
“Lucile Hamilton,” Henri admitted sullenly. “In the other room.” He hesitated, scowled heavily and burst out, “Don’t look at me like that. I knew I was in a jam. Both those girls heard me at Margo’s — Evalyn Jordan and Lucile Hamilton. I don’t know where Evalyn’s got to. I thought if I could put it up to Lucile I might get her to forget about me being there. God knows the cops will be riding my tail if they find me. You don’t want that,” he ended defiantly. “You nor Captain Denton neither.”
“No,” said Soule smoothly, “we don’t want that. But you should have told me, Henri.” He was purring now, like a father chiding an erring son. “If you’d come to me we would have fixed something up.”
“I was afraid you’d be sore.” Henri dropped his head. “When Lucile came in with this stool, I was afraid to tell you I’d sent for her.”
“Let me have Desmond,” Shayne suggested. “All I want is the girl’s killer.”
“That,” Soule said, “is an idea.” He looked at Denton with raised brows.
“I don’t trust Shayne,” Denton said heavily. “Sure, he wants a fall guy for the murder. He needs an out. But after he gets that, he still knows too much about our hookup.”