“And—?”
“I was right, like I knew I’d be. Nothing. Not a thing. What a waste of manpower.”
“Too bad. But, as you say, you knew nothing would come of it.”
“Yeah. They’re all just terribly shocked, and wish they could do something, and are we going to find the killer? And I have to stand there and lie in their teeth, and then when nothing happens they’ll remember me and not realize I’m just covering up for the Department, so they’ll think I’m the schnook. And that’s one thing I can’t stand.” He stared moodily at the beer.
“I don’t see how anybody could think that of you.”
“A lot of people ain’t good judges of character.” He put down his empty glass, and Conway proved himself at least a good enough judge of character to get another bottle from the icebox. The detective brightened.
“Well, as long as I started checking these people, I might as well finish,” Bauer said as he opened the bottle. “That Taylor that was crossed out — know where he worked or anything?”
Conway took a sip from his glass. He would have liked to drink a toast to Sergeant Bauer and his search for Mr. Taylor. A long chase and a merry one, he thought; it’ll keep you out of mischief.
“I haven’t any idea,” he said with complete truthfulness. “I think he was a salesman of some sort, but I don’t know what he sold, and I haven’t the vaguest notion of where he worked.” He led the way into the living room.
“Oh. Well, just thought you might save me a little time. Don’t know anything else about him, eh?”