“All right. So you’ve solved it. That’s just fine.” Gentry turned to Sturgis and asked, “You and Benton about through here?”
“We haven’t found anything, Chief.”
“I didn’t expect you to,” Gentry told him gruffly.
“Just sent them here to needle me a little, eh?”
Gentry looked at him with weary eyes and growled, “Why did you send Lucy to Mrs. Carrol’s hotel room last night?”
“For the same reason you sent Hagen home with her, I guess. The way she acted I had a hunch that letter she said was signed by me might still be lying around. I wanted it.”
“Why?” Gentry thundered.
“I was curious to see the signature. Damn it, Will,” he burst out, “don’t try to make something out of it that isn’t there. If I were lying and trying to cover my tracks in this thing, it wouldn’t do me any good to get hold of that particular letter. The Wilmington lawyer claims he has others signed the same way. If I were going to destroy hers, I’d have to get hold of his, too.”
“That’s what I’ve been thinking,” the chief said ominously, “for the past fifteen minutes or so, at least. I just got a call from Bates in Wilmington. His office has been burglarized and the entire file of correspondence with you has been stolen. So right now I’m wondering where you were between four and nine o’clock this morning.” He fixed his agate eyes on Shayne’s purplish wound and fished a cigar from his breast pocket.