Denton laughed. “That’s the way dames are, Inspector. They tighten up just when you think you’ve got a case sewed up. Let me talk to her a little. I can maybe make her remember better who it was she saw.”
The inspector ignored Denton. He asked, “These girls who were here for dinner, Madame — do you know them? Where they live?”
“No, Monsieur. One was Miss Hamilton. Lucile Hamilton. She has visited Miss Macon before. The other girl I think they called Evalyn.”
“You don’t know how we could get in touch with them?”
“No, Monsieur. I do not know.”
“What does it matter, Inspector?” Denton broke in. “You’re holding Shayne, aren’t you?”
The inspector said, “Yes. I’m holding Shayne. Come along Shayne.”
Chapter seven
When Shayne and inspector Quinlan reached the sidewalk, police were holding back curious spectators while the covered body of the murdered girl was being placed in an ambulance on a stretcher.
A taxi pulled up behind the ambulance and a man got out hastily. He wore a pearl-gray derby and gray spats to match. He was slender, of about medium height, and he hooked a light Malacca cane over his left arm as he took out his wallet to pay the driver.