“I’d give my right leg to be able to believe that the girl was killed by somebody you sent to get the letters. By God, I’d like to top off the job by sending you to the gallows!”

He didn’t touch the letters. He said:

“You told me the truth about Thaler and Pete?”

“Yeah. But what difference does it make? You’ll only be pushed around by somebody else.”

He threw the bedclothes aside and swung his stocky pajamaed legs and pink feet over the edge of the bed.

“Have you got the guts,” he barked, “to take the job I offered you once before⁠—chief of police?”

“No. I lost my guts out fighting your fights while you were hiding in bed and thinking up new ways of disowning me. Find another wet nurse.”

He glared at me. Then shrewd wrinkles came around his eyes.