“But Max had an alibi?”

“Yes, indeed. He always has. He was in the hotel bar, on the other side of the building, all the time. Four men said so. As I remember it, they said it openly and often, long before anybody asked them. There were other men in the bar who didn’t remember whether Max had been there or not, but those four remembered. They’d remember anything Max wanted remembered.”

Her eyes got large and then narrowed to black-fringed slits. She leaned toward me, upsetting her glass with an elbow.

“Peak Murry was one of the four. He and Max are on the outs now. Peak might tell it straight now. He’s got a pool room on Broadway.”

“This MacSwain, does he happen to be named Bob?” I asked. “A bowlegged man with a long jaw like a hog’s?”

“Yes. You know him?”

“By sight. What does he do now?”