"That's what's got me puzzled. I've worked on that end of it, and I've had several of my best men circulating around trying to gather dope from the gossip shops—but there doesn't seem to be a clue from this end. Anyway—I don't believe Warren was killed by the woman in the taxi!"
Carroll was genuinely impressed. "You don't?"
"No. Don't believe any woman—I don't care who—would have killed him under those circumstances."
"You mean you believe the woman in the taxi had nothing to do with it?"
"I don't mean anything of the kind. I know darn well she had something to do with it—but I don't believe she did the actual killing. That's why I'd arrest this bird Lawrence and also William Barker. They either killed the man or they know all about it."
"But," suggested Carroll slowly, "suppose we admit that your theory is correct—and I've thought of it myself: how and where was that body put into the taxicab?"
Leverage shrugged: "That's where you come in, Carroll. I ain't the sort of thinker who can puzzle out something like that. Of course I'd say the only place the shift could have been made was when the taxi stopped at the R. L. & T. railroad crossing—and every time I think that it strikes me I must be wrong. Because any birds working a case like that couldn't have counted on such a break in luck."
"It might have been," suggested Carroll, "that two men entered the cab at that crossing: Warren and another—both alive, and the killing might have occurred between then and the time the cab reached number 981 East End Avenue."
"Might have—yes. But something tells me it didn't. It's asking too much—"
"Then what do you think happened?"