I looked at him. I always look again at people who live in Brooklyn. “Is that where you were last night?”
“Certainly. That’s where my bed is, and I was in it.”
“Alone?”
“I’m unmarried.”
“Were you alone in your suite throughout the period from ten-thirty to two o’clock last night?”
“I was.”
“Can you furnish any corroboration? Phone calls? Anything at all?”
His jaw moved spasmodically. He was controlling himself. “How can I? I was asleep.”
I looked at him without bias but with reserve. “You understand the situation, Mr. Brucker. A lot of people stand to profit from Miss Eads’s death, some of them substantially. These things have to be asked about. How much of this business will you now inherit?”
“That’s a matter of public record.”