He smiled. “He was fond of beautiful girls. And he could also afford them.”
“What about recently? Say, the last four or five months. Did he bring in a lot of different girls, or was it always the same one?”
“It was the same one in the last few months.”
“When was the last time they were in here?”
“Sunday night. The night he was killed.”
“Who was the girl?” I asked, expecting the usual answer.
He looked at me, and from the expression in his eyes I knew that at last I was going to hit pay dirt. “Are you with the police?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I’m with the company that carried his insurance.”
“I thought it was something like that,” he said with a smile. “The police don’t usually part with any money when they want to ask questions. Do you have any identification?”
I took out my w
