“What does this mean?” Myra demanded. “Is this something you’ve hatched up?”
“Now don’t set yourself on fire,” I said hastily, “I don’t know any more about this than you do.”
“Yeah?” Bogle said, jerking Myra round. “So you don’t want the money, huh? You double-crossing little hooker! How the hell did you manage it?”
“Don’t be a damn fool!” I said. “She’s got nothing to do with it. It’s her father trying to pull a fast one over Maddox. It sticks out a yard.” I turned to Myra, “What kind of a man is your father?”
She hesitated “He—he’s a bit of a crook,” she said reluctantly. “But there’s no vice in him. He was just born that way.”
“Well, it looks to me like your father’s trying to gyp Maddox. What’s to stop him palming off some other girl as his daughter? You know, precious, that’s about what he’s doing.”
She stared at me, “But the photograph in the paper. They’ll know she’s a fake.”
“Maybe he’s found someone who looks like you.”
“Yeah, that wouldn’t be hard,” Sam put in. “Any one with a Veronica Lake hair-cut would do.”
This seemed to annoy Myra. “So I look like any one, do I?” she said angrily.