Listen," I said. "Don't say anything until I'm through. He died of shock. Somebody burned his feet with a cheap electric iron. Not yours, I looked. I'd say he died rather quickly and couldn't have said much. The gag was still in his mouth. When I went out there, frankly, I thought it was all hooey. Now I'm not so sure. If he opened up, we're through, and so is Sype, unless I can find him first. Those workers didn't have any inhibitions at all. If he didn't give up, there's still time."
Her head turned, her set eyes looked towards the revolving door at the lobby entrance. White patches glared in her cheeks.
"What do I do?" she breathed.
I poked at a box of wrapped cigars, dropped her key into it. Her long fingers got it out smoothly, hid it.
"When you get home you find him. You don't know a thing. Leave the pearls out, leave me out. When they check his prints they'll know he had a record and they'll just figure it was something caught up with him."
I broke my cigarettes open and lit one, watched her for a moment. She didn't move an inch.
"Can you face it down?" I asked. "If you can't, now's the time to speak."
"Of course." Her eyebrows arched. "Do I look like a torturer?"
"You married a crook," I said grimly.
She flushed, which was what I wanted. "He isn't! He's just a damn fool! Nobody thinks any the worse of me, not even the boys down at Headquarters."
"All right. I like it that way. It's not our murder, after all. And if we talk now, you can say goodbye to any share in any reward-even if one is ever paid."
"Darn tootin'," Kathy Home said pertly. "Oh, the poor little runt," she almost sobbed.
I patted her arm, grinned as heartily as I could and left the Mansion House.