“What’s that? No one directly recommended you. I’ve heard of your reputation, naturally, and some months ago, in connection with another affair entirely, I happen to know that my attorney had you discreetly investigated with a view to retaining your services. It was later decided to drop the matter, but your name stuck in my mind. So, when I realized the local police could not be trusted to follow the only actual lead in Ralph’s murder, I thought of you at once.”
“What’s the name of your attorney?”
“Mr. Bates in Wilmington.”
“Was he also Carrol’s lawyer?”
“Bates handles all the legal affairs of our firm.”
“What was the nature of the other affair when I was considered and investigated?” Shayne persisted.
“It was a personal matter,” Margrave told him curtly. “It can have no possible bearing on Ralph’s death.”
“I’ll have to be the judge of that.”
“Very well,” the big man agreed reluctantly. “Ralph received some nasty anonymous letters. He was furious and wanted a detective brought in, but I was able to persuade him to drop the matter.”
Ann Margrave re-entered the room as her father spoke. She was stunning in a clinging white sport frock, the wide belt, pert little hat, and two-toned shoes matched the scarlet rouge on her full mouth. She carried a small white purse in one white-gloved hand. She said in a flat voice, “I’m going out. ’By, Pops. Good-by, Mike.”