“But you can’t prove a damned thing you say, Mike.”
“And you can’t disprove anything I say.”
“I’ve got the statements of Mrs. Carrol and Bates,” Gentry reminded him, “and they’re in direct contradiction to yours.”
“Okay. Let’s analyze those statements. Take Bates’s story. He claims I replied to his first letter by demanding five hundred dollars in cash before taking the case. You know damned well that’s not the way I run my business. If I were going to accept the job, I’d do it and bill the client later.
“Wait a minute!” Shayne held up a big hand to ward off Gentry’s protest. “That’s not all. Bates claims he suggested I get a key to Carrol’s room for his wife’s use in ending a divorce action. No matter what you believe about anything else I’ve told you, you know goddamned well I’d have turned an assignment like that down flat. I don’t fool around with that sort of thing at any price, not even when it’s offered in advance.”
Gentry’s broad, ruddy face was impassive. He shifted his weight wearily in the straight chair. “But for a promise of ten thousand—” he began.
“And if I were going to take a job like that,” Shayne cut in, as though completely absorbed in his own thoughts and unaware of the chief’s words, “I sure as hell wouldn’t spot the guy in my own hotel to do the job.”
“It would make it easier for you to pull,” Gentry pointed out with a weary sigh, “as Bates explained to me over the phone.”
“I’d be a hell of a detective if I couldn’t get a duplicate key from any hotel in town,” Shayne growled.
“Then who in hell furnished Mrs. Carrol with a key to your room last night?” Gentry exploded.