I flipped a page of the notebook. “Go back a little. During that week, besides the tenants here, how many of Chaffee’s friends and acquaintances did you meet?”
“Just two, as I’ve told you. A young woman, a model, in his studio one day, and I don’t remember her name, and a man that was there another day, a man that Chaffee said buys his pictures. His name was Braunstein.”
“You’re leaving out Philip Kampf.”
Meegan leaned forward and put a fist on the table. “Yes, and I’m going to leave him out. I never saw him or heard of him.”
“What would you say if I said you were seen with him?”
“I’d say you were a dirty liar!” The red eyes looked redder. “As if I wasn’t already having enough trouble, now you set on me about a murder of a man I never heard of! You bring a dog here and tell me to pat it, for God’s sake!”
I nodded. “That’s your hard luck, Mr. Meegan. You’re not the first man that’s had a murder for company without inviting it.” I closed the notebook and put it in my pocket. “You’d better find some way of handling your troubles without having people’s phones tapped.” I arose. “Stick around, please. You may be wanted downtown anyhow.”
He went to open the door for me. I would have liked to get more details of his progress with Ross Chaffee, or lack of it, and his contacts with the other two tenants, but it seemed more important to have some words with Chaffee before I got interrupted. As I mounted the two flights to the top floor my wristwatch said twenty-eight minutes past ten.
V
“I know there’s no use complaining,” Ross Chaffee said, “about these interruptions to my work. Under the circumstances.” He was being very gracious about it.