I hung up, swiveled, and told Wolfe, "Lon Cohen fishing, probably from home, since it's Sunday. An item in the
"Shut up!"
I hunched my shoulders and raised my hands, palms up.
He slapped his desk blotter so hard the bottle trembled, and bellowed, "Did he kill her?"
I said firmly, "I pass."
"That won't do. When you were with him Friday evening was he planning murder? When you saw him yesterday was he bearing guilt?"
"I still pass. As for Friday evening, he may not have planned it. He may have gone there yesterday morning, no telling why, and flapped. As for yesterday afternoon, what do you mean, bearing guilt? Murderers have sat here in this room and looked you in the eye and answered your questions, and when they left you were still guessing. Now I'm guessing. Of course you want a verdict, but I haven't got it."
"You like to give odds. What are the odds?"
"For a bet, even money, and I'll take either end. That's ignoring my personal preference. I would prefer it that he didn't. I would rather not see a headline
"You refuse to resolve it."
"I do."
"Then get Saul and Fred here as soon as possible."
Chapter 3