Reidy said, “Mrs. Lanerd’s on her way here.”
“Grrr!” I didn’t want to be present at that farewell party. “Better get a nurse from the hospital suite, just in case.”
Reidy hadn’t thought of that, went to take care of it.
Hacklin took up where Schneider’d left off.
“Roffis must have tried to veto this buzzaway to Miami and Rio, and Lanerd fixed him. That’s why Herb hadn’t unholstered his gun; he knew Lanerd and naturally figured he didn’t have anything to fear from the big shot.”
I said, “Then Lanerd hung around after the killing? Waiting for a streetcar, maybe?”
“We figure that after the murder, Miss Millett got cold feet, turned Lanerd down, wrote him that note, and decided to beat it all by herself. I know there was some trouble between ’em, because when I got to the suite, she’d been bawling.”
“Why didn’t Lanerd leave the suite when you did?” I asked.
“I asked him to stay,” Hacklin answered. “He wanted to come to the studio with us, but I wanted someone there to tell Herb what had happened, if he came back while I was away.”
Schneider stuck a palm out toward me inquiringly. “What else would a prominent party like him do, faced with ruin an’ exposure? Nothing but put a period to himself.”