“All I know is that I haven’t the faintest notion of what you’re talking about,” Conway said. “Would you mind letting me in on it?”
“I can understand your reticence, Mr. Conway,” Ramsden said, “your desire, now that she’s dead, to protect your wife’s reputation as best you can, regardless of your personal feelings in the matter. But I have to remind you that you may be obstructing justice.”
“I guess I’m not very bright,” Conway said, thoroughly puzzled. “Could you tell me in words of one syllable?”
“There’s no point in playing dumb,” Bauer said. “You saw him. We finally picked him up last night. You never saw a scareder guy than Harry Taylor. But we got the whole story.”
“Harry Taylor?”
“In person.”
“Was he in that last line-up?” Conway struggled to recall the individuals in the final group. “He must have been the one next to the end, on the right — the tall one. I swear, though, I didn’t recognize him. I’ve only seen him twice in my life, and — well, all that gang looked like bums.”
“He’s no man of distinction this morning,” Bauer admitted.
“But why are you holding him?”
“You know why we’re holding him,” the detective said.