"No," Cripp told him. "It was dark. She couldn't tell. If McLeod is arrested, they'll have to take me, too."
A muscle twitched in Wainwright's face, tugging the long nose down and to the left. "Very well. But Miss Kent still represents the Star-Times."
Cripp shook his head. "A co-respondent?"
"She's capable."
"Too damned capable," McLeod said. "I have positive proof that Tracy Kent is employed as a spy by the World." He turned on Wainwright with what he hoped would pass for righteous indignation. "Is that the kind of fair break you try to give the opposition?"
The encircling crowd stirred, trembling with whispers. McLeod pressed his advantage by jabbing a finger at the captain of police. "I demand the right to call my newspaper."
"Well, I don't know." The man looked to Wainwright for help.
"Never mind him," McLeod said. "You tell me. I'm within my rights as a newspaperman, or wouldn't you know about that?"
Someone brought out a portable phone and thrust it at McLeod. The captain of police looked at Wainwright, who shook his head quickly from side to side. It was all right. Sure it was all right. McLeod could make no accusations in public, the law said. If he started, he would forfeit his right to complete the call. He could tell Overman that Tracy and Cripp had him, instead, but he doubted if the City Editor would act on that basis.
Wainwright grinned. "There's your phone, McLeod. We're waiting for you to call."