"What?" Guido jerked. "What'd you go there for?"
"Let's say I was curious. Gene Michaelis was out of sight last weekend. He won't say where."
"You don't—" Guido looked up. Something congealed in him. "I thought Corinna was just flipping," he said, very softly.
"I don't accuse anyone," said Kintyre. "I'm only a civilian. However, the police are going to give him a rough time if he won't alibi himself."
Guido lit a fresh cigarette from the butt of the last.
"Where were you, Saturday afternoon through Monday morning?" Kintyre tossed the question off as lightly as he was able.
"Out of town," said Guido. "With some friends."
"You'd better get in touch with them, then, so they can give statements to that effect."
"They—Christ almighty!" In the guttering flamelight, Kintyre saw how sweat began to film the faun countenance.
"My personal opinion," he said, watching Guido's lips fight to stiffen themselves, "is that you are not involved. The fact remains, though, you'd better account for your weekend."