“Don’t waste time lying to me. When did you see him last?”
“I never saw him in my life, Will. Not to my knowledge.”
“Why did you call down to the desk a few minutes ago to ask if he was registered here?” probed the chief.
Shayne hesitated, lowering his lids over the glint of excitement and interest in his eyes. Finally, he blurted out, “How the devil do you know that? It hasn’t been more than five minutes ago.”
“That’s why I’m particularly interested,” Gentry told him patiently.
“There could be a thousand reasons,” said Shayne lightly. “Maybe I had a date with his wife and wanted to be certain the guy was in bed and would stay put while I kept it.”
“Cut it, Mike. I just want one reason. The real one.”
Shayne sobered and said quietly, “I’m not sure I can give you the real reason without betraying a confidence. I certainly can’t without knowing your reason for asking.”
“If it’s any news to you,” Gentry rumbled, “Ralph Carrol is dead. You know better than to hold out on a murder investigation.”
Shayne’s eyes were hooded, his face expressionless, but he was thinking fast. In a sense, the chief’s statement came as no great surprise. From the moment Gentry asked his first question about Carrol, Shayne had realized that it must be something like this that placed the Chief of Police in the hotel at the same time Shayne made his query to the desk. The substitute clerk had relayed the information to the police, of course. A bad break for the detective which would not have occurred if Dick had been on the switchboard.