“But he was involved with her,” said Shayne, “and now with Carrol dead and Nora legally a widow, he comes dashing down here to comfort her. You can’t deny that.”
“I’m not attempting to. Let me point out that your case against Granger falls to pieces because of one insurmountable contradiction. In the first place you hypothecate that he killed Nora’s husband for love of her. Yet at the same time, you suggest he chose a time and method that was bound to involve her, and quite possibly bring an accusation against her — against the woman he loves, and hopes to marry,” Bates elaborated. “You can’t have it both ways, Mr. Shayne.” Again a half-smile was on his thin lips.
“All right.” Shayne turned to Chief Gentry. “I can’t think of anything else, Will. But if I were you I’d check with Wilmington damned carefully to determine whether Granger actually spent the night there.”
“If you’re finished with your questions,” Bates said, “may I ask a few of my own?” He turned to the chief.
“Go ahead. But leave out your accusations about the corruptness of the Miami police,” Gentry warned in a deep rumble.
“Do you actually accept this man’s denial that he was retained by me to locate Ralph Carrol?” the lawyer demanded sharply. “Do you believe that he did not agree to make arrangements for Carrol’s wife to visit him last night?”
Will Gentry answered with a blunt: “Yes.”
“Do you believe me to be lying about the matter?”
Gentry hesitated, glancing doubtfully at Shayne. “I don’t go that far. I don’t believe Shayne does, either. I think you were taken in by an impostor, and that you thought you were dealing with Shayne, but that it was someone else altogether.”
“How do you explain such a hoax? I had letters from him — telephone calls.”