our solution before Segurnal can pick you up. It is the only way. You have an idea perhaps?" he asked hopefully.
"A couple/ 7 Jeff said. "I think Dan Spencer was blackmailing my stepbrother. From what I saw in Arnold's checkbook, he'd been paying Spencer three hundred bolivars a week for quite a while."
"Ah/* said Cordovez softly. "You think Spencer knew of your stepbrother's secret debt in the state of Nevada?"
"Baker was a cop in Las Vegas/' Jeff said. "He worked for the same hotel as my stepbrother. He must have known all about Arnold and when he located him here he knew why Arnold was hiding. Furthermore, Arnold trusted him enough to hire him to send those cables from Barbados. Apparently he was supposed to make the payment to Webb."
"That I understand."
"But Spencer once worked for a newspaper in Las Vegas. He knew Baker; he also knew my stepbrother. Some time ago he must have run into him here and Arnold must have decided to put him on the payroll to make sure Spencer didn't write the Las Vegas crowd what he knew/'
"Yes/' Cordovez said. "And you will wish to verify this with Spencer?"
"Right/" Jeff said. "But Irst I'd like to have a talk with Luis Miranda/'
"Miranda?" Cordovez's brows climbed as his eyes opened. "Miranda?" he said again in the first display of surprise Jeff had ever witnessed. "But if you think Senor Baker was killed for money—and Grayson too—then Luis Miranda would not do this. He would not need the money, even in that amount."
"Do you know his wife's name?"
Cordovez blinked at the digression. "His wife?" He frowned. "No, I do not."
Jeff took the two airplane tickets from his pocket and
passed them over. He waited while the detective studied them carefully and when Cordovez returned them his face held a strange expression.
"I had heard it said that your stepbrother and this woman were friendly/* he said finally. "I have heard that Luis Miranda is a jealous man. Still—"
He let the sentence dangle, sighed, and pushed back his chair. "Very well/* he said. "We will go. At this hour he may still be at his office. My car is outside. 95
Julio Cordovez found a parking place across the street from the entrance of this towering office building that, had its walls sloped slightly, would have resembled a multi-windowed obelisk. His smooth face held a worried look as he turned off the motor, and before Jeff could get out he offered a word of caution and a suggestion.
"Luis Miranda is a proud man," he said. "A dangerous man to insult, with a temper that is quick. I do not know what will happen when you speak of his wife—if that is your intention—but I do not think it wise for you to go to his office,"
"Why?"
"To explain your position or to ask for any assistance you will first have to speak of this new murder. Who can say how he will react?**
T[ don't know/' Jeff said, "but if I don't go, how do I get to talk to him? It's a chance I have to take.*'
"But if there is a better way?"
"Is there?"
^His office is on what floor?**
"Fourteen.**
c< And when you have finished your talk, what is to prevent him from picking up the telephone to report your presence to the police? The radio cars come quick these days. If there should be any delay in waiting for an ele-
vator you could be picked up at the entrance before you could reach my car. If you do not mind a suggestion I think It best to try another way."
Jeff had been paying attention and what Cordovez said made sense.
"I'm listening/* he said.
"First I will see if he is In his office. If so I will wait downstairs until he comes out. I will then say you wish to see him and if he agrees I will bring him here and you can talk. If I have any doubts we will have to think of something else but no harm will be done for the moment.* 5
He smiled again as Jeff hesitated, then opened the car door. From the top of the sun visor he removed a newspaper printed in Spanish. "If you pretend to read this/* he said, "your face will be well hidden/'
It was exactly eighteen minutes later when Jeff saw them start across the street, Miranda immaculately erect in his dark suit and Panama hat, Cordovez bareheaded, his bald spot glistening In the fading sunlight, trotting a little to keep pace. As they neared the car Jeff replaced the newspaper and gave the detective proper credit for a smarS idea, well executed; then he stepped out on the sidewall and waited.
Miranda nodded coldly, his black eyes speculating. 1 do not understand why you did not come to my office/' he said. "But If you wish to talk here I can spare you five minutes."
"You will be more comfortable in back/' Cordovez said and opened the rear door. **I will wait near by."
Miranda slid over on the seat and Jeff followed him; th< confidence he had felt earlier was dissipating rapidly, bu he was determined to find out what he could while In could. He asked first if Miranda knew about Arnold Gray son.
ONE MINUTE PAST EIGHT
"I was Informed by the police fifteen minutes ago," Miranda said. "You wish, to talk to me because you feel the need of legal counsel?"
"Not exactly/' Jeff said. "But it's something I may need a lot of before too long and I might as well tell you what I know."
There was no interruption as he related the facts as he knew them. He pointed out his own position as a suspect but made no mention of Karen Holmes's part in making his present freedom possible.
"Because you had this fight with Grayson, and because Spencer may have seen you come from the building, you decided to ran," Miranda said, "You are afraid the police are now looking for you. And what do you expect to gain by this?"
"Time/' Jeff said, "and maybe some information." Then, because he knew of no other way, he plunged ahead, his body poised should he need to move quickly. "Because the way I see it you have a pretty fair motive for murder yourself, Mr. Miranda,"
He could feel the other stiffen beside him but when there was no immediate reply, he said: "What is your wife's first name?"
"Muriel"
"And what would you say if I told you she was planning to run away with Grayson tomorrow night?"
The brown, aristocratic face grew pale at the cheekbones and the answer came quickly, the words clipped and forceful.
"I would demand that you prove your accusation or apologize instantly.*'
Jeff already had the two airline tickets in his hand and he passed them quickly to Miranda without comment. He watched the man's dark gaze narrow as he examined the covers of the two tickets. He sat that way for several sec-
onds, as though reluctant to open them and see what lay
inside. Finally he bent one cover back, glanced at the ticket; he examined the other. He looked at Jeff.
"Where did you get them?"
Jeff told him. "If there's any doubt in your mind," he said, "you could check with the airline office. The only point that concerns me is—did you know about this or didn't you?"
The outburst Jeff had expected never came. There was no denial, no outward sign that Miranda had heard what was said. He settled back against the cushions, no longer looking at Jeff or the tickets. His gaze was fixed at some point beyond the windshield, but the things he saw were in his mind. When he spoke, his voice had a remote quality and the thoughts he expressed came from the past.
"It has never been easy/' he said,
Jeff hesitated, and then checked the question that came to mind, as some instinctive knowledge warned him not to break the spell Miranda had cast about himself.
"She could not get used to the customs of this country/' he added finally. "She had always had much freedom and she could not understand that here a wife does not go out in the evening without her husband. In the afternoon, perhaps with other women to tea, yes; not otherwise.