“Well, I can’t know everyone, can I?”
“Swell,” I lowered half my drink. “Now, we’re getting places. Let me tell you, Kelly’s yarn is a damn lie from soup to nuts.”
“You ask Maddox,” Juden returned grimly. “He’ll tell you whether it’s a lie or not in twenty different languages… all of ’em bad.”
“You may be interested to hear that Myra Shumway’s upstairs right at this very minute,” I said, emphasising each word by stabbing the air with my finger.
Juden finished his drink and snapped his fingers for the barman. “The girl gets around,” was all he said.
“She hasn’t been to New York,” I said patiently. “She’s been right by my side from the time I told you I’d found her.”
“Has it ever occurred to you that some young woman is kidding the pants off you?”
I thought about this, then I shook my head. “The girl’s Myra Shumway,” I said. “You gave me her picture. Remember?”
Juden opened a brief case, lying by his feet and produced a full plate glossy print. “Take a gander at that,” he said, handing it to me.
There was Maddox looking like a well-fed turtle, another oldish man I hadn’t seen before and Myra. They were standing in Maddox’s office and Maddox was handing Myra a slip of paper. By the glassy smile that Maddox had hitched to his face, there could be no doubt that the slip of paper was the cheque for the 25,000-dollars reward.