Purley descended from the chair and headed for the phone at the cashier’s counter.
“The search,” Wolfe said, “must be thorough and will take time. First I ask all of you to search your minds. What object is here, belongs here, that meets the specifications as I have described them? Surely you can tell us. Mr. Fickler?”
“I’ve been thinking.” Fickler shook his head. “I’ve been thinking hard. I don’t know unless it’s a towel, and why would he carry a towel like that?”
“He wouldn’t. Anyway a towel wouldn’t help us any, so I reject it. Philip?”
“No, sir. I don’t know what.”
“Tom?”
Tom just shook his head gloomily.
“Ed?”
“You’ve got me. Pass.”
“Miss Stahl?”