“I’ll have to look it up some day,” Templin said. He pointed to the stack of cards. “That’s so much waste paper, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is,” Eckert said reluctantly. “To be frank, I had hoped we’d know a lot more by now. I still can’t understand why we haven’t dug up anybody who will admit having been his friend.”
“How do you know they’re telling the truth? Or, for that matter, how do you know that the ones we’ve seen so far are the ones who actually knew Pendleton?”
Eckert drummed his fingers on the table. You handle different human cultures for twenty-five years and you get to the point where you can tell if people are lying or not. Or do you? Maybe just an old man’s conceit. Age alone never lent wisdom. Regardless of the personal reasons that Templin might have for thinking the Tunpesha
