“Is that what did happen?”
“Ask Denton,” Shayne grinned. “One sure way to find out is for something to happen to me. I’ve got it fixed so Inspector Quinlan will hear that Dictaphone record if I don’t show up after lunch at his office.”
Soule snapped, “It sounds like a lot of hooey to me,” disgustedly. “Dictaphone records! That’s storybook stuff.”
“Maybe — but I think it’s a damned good idea. Anyhow, I’m telling you this flat: I’m arresting the real murderer this afternoon in Quinlan’s office. If Denton hasn’t played smart and fixed up a retraction by that time, it’ll be too late.” He stood up.
“Wait a minute.” Rudy Soule drummed on his desk, his half-closed, sleepy eyes staring. He asked, “Is it Henri?” without looking up.
“It doesn’t really matter to you who it is,” Shayne told him angrily, “but it isn’t the girl Denton framed.”
“How will Denton know you won’t spring the record after he changes his story — if he does decide to?”
“What good would that do me? And hell, he’s still got the picture and the court record.”
“They won’t be worth a damn in a few days. The papers would smell a rat if he held it out and then used it.”
“Same way with the Dictaphone record,” Shayne argued. “Denton can kill the effect of it by coming out first and changing his story.”