He was content when he fell asleep.
* * *
"THE police have already interviewed Rule Shaker, with his lawyer present, of course," Savich said to a full audience the following morning just after they'd finished breakfast and trooped into the living room. "Detective O'Connor called me just a while ago. He said that Rule Shaker is giving them all the same kind of cooperation the president gives to Congress. That approach stretches things out forever and ends up leading anybody anywhere.
"Rule Shaker just sat there behind his big chrome-and-glass desk, smoking his Cuban cigars, and swearing he just wanted Louey Santera to come play in his casino. He freely admitted that Louey lost a good deal of money at the craps table, so what? What reasonable man, what reasonable businessman, he asked, would kill a man who owed him money?
"When the cops pointed out that Louey might not have been the target, Mr. Shaker very politely informed them that any operation he ever undertook was done right. A screwup would have been impossible with him running it. Then he offered both O'Connor and the Las Vegas detective a cigar."
Everyone just stared morosely at Savich. Mason Lord said, "That sounds like Shaker. He's an arrogant little bastard."
"Sorry, guys," Savich said, "Ain't nothing easy in this life, even when it involves bastards."
Miles cleared his throat at the door. "Detective O'Connor is here."
O'Connor looked very tired; he had bags under his eyes that hadn't been there just two days before. He tried to smile, but didn't make it. "Hello. I got by the reporters and photographers intact. Your men are dealing well with them, Mr. Lord, no violence, but they're firm. There aren't more than a dozen out there today. Ah, I see that Agent Savich is giving you all a rundown of what I didn't accomplish in Las Vegas." He turned to Savich. "Do you have anything for us?"
"MAXINE just might, Detective O'Connor," Savich said, grinning. "Actually, we've had her plugged in all night. We're just waiting for her to coughr something up."
Mason Lord cleared his throat. "My dear, would you like to ask Miles to bring in coffee?"
"Of course, Mason," Eve Lord said and rose gracefully from the elegant wing chair she'd been sitting in. She hadn't said a word until that moment, hadn't really called any attention at all to herself. But when she stood, all the men's eyes began to swing toward her. She was wearing tight white jeans, a top tied beneath her breasts, her pale blond hair long and loose, smooth as a silk swatch down her back. Every male eye in the room watched Eve Lord walk to the door, open it, and leave the living room. There was nearly a collective sigh of lust.
Ramsey smiled as he said, "Detective O'Connor, we didn't mean to interrupt you."
"Well, I can tell you that we spoke to Mr. Santera's accountant, Warren O'Dell, last evening, after you'd seen him. He was telling the truth, as far as we can tell. Louey Santera did personally remove three hundred thousand dollars from his account. We won't know what he did with it.
"About the bomb," Detective O'Connor continued. "It was hooked directly to the ignition switch. The parts are common, but we're checking for leads. It was professional, no doubt about that. Mr. Lord, we'd like to speak to your staff again, at some length, beginning with Gunther. You said, Mr. Lord, that he was the man who brought the Mercedes up from the garage."
"Yes, that's right. He brought it around at about five o'clock in the morning. I was awake and so was he. He had the time, so he washed the car. Gunther does that. When he finished, he just brought it around. He doesn't know anything more or he would have told me. This is my estate, and I know everything that goes on here."
"Evidently not," Molly said, ignoring the look her father gave her.
O'Connor said, "Someone could have rigged the bomb in the car, but not turned it on until they were sure who would be in the car. Unless, of course, Gunther told anyone who he was bringing the car around for. You must realize, Mr. Lord, that someone on the estate must have been involved."
There, it was said out in the open.
Mason Lord said in his mildest voice, "That is one opinion, Detective O'Connor. Now, there is, of course, the man who works here to take care of my cars. I have a fleet of six. He also lives on the premises. But I know you've already spoken to him. It's possible that Gunther would have said something to him, I suppose. I'll send him to see you, Detective."
"I would appreciate some cooperation from your people, Mr. Lord."