Silence. After a moment I added, “And don’t try to avoid giving me a shock. Since you’re Homicide, someone is dead. Who?”
“Who do you think?”
“Huh-uh. I won’t try to guess because I might guess the right one and I’d be in the soup.”
“I want to be around when you are. Sidney Karnow was killed in his room at the Churchill this afternoon. He had been reported dead in Korea and had just turned up alive, and had learned that his wife had married Paul Aubry. As if I was telling you anything you don’t know.”
He couldn’t see my face through the crack, so I didn’t have to bother about managing it. I asked, “Karnow was murdered?”
“That’s the idea. He was shot in the back of the head.”
“Are you saying I knew about it?”
“Not so far. But you knew about the situation, since you were there with Aubry and the woman. I want ‘em, and I want ‘em now, and are they here? If not, where are they?”
“I see,” I said judiciously. “I admit you have given me a reason. Be seated while I go take a look.” I pushed the door shut, went back to the office and crossed to my desk, took a pencil and my memo pad, and wrote:
Stebbins. Says K. murdered. We were seen leaving hotel. Asks are they here and if not where.