expected,
the murder was out; the daily budget of strikes and Congressional
investigations and international turmoil was enlivened by a more or less
imaginative account of what had already been christened the "Rosemont
Bayonet Murder." Rand resigned himself to the inevitable influx of
reporters. Then he swore, as the newscaster continued:

"District Attorney Charles P. Farnsworth, of Scott County, who has taken
charge of the investigation, says, and we quote: 'There is strong
evidence implicating certain prominent persons, whom we are not, as yet,
prepared to name, and if the investigation, now under way and making
excellent progress, justifies, they will be apprehended and formally
charged. No effort will be spared, and no consideration of personal
prominence will be allowed to deter us from clearing up this dastardly
crime....'"

Rand swore again, with weary bitterness, wondering how much trouble he
was going to have with District Attorney Charles P. Farnsworth, as he
pulled to a stop in Stephen Gresham's driveway.

CHAPTER 12

Gresham must have been waiting inside the door; as soon as Rand came up
onto the porch, he opened it, and motioned the detective inside. Beyond a
hasty greeting as Rand passed the threshold, he did not speak until they
were seated in the gunroom upstairs. Then he came straight to the point.

"Jeff, can you spare the time from this work you're doing at the
Flemings' to investigate this Rivers business?" he asked. "And how much
would an investigation cost me? It's got to be a blitz job. I'm not
interested in getting anybody convicted in court; I just want the case
cleared up in a hurry."

"Well--" Rand puffed at the cigar Gresham had given him, watching the ash
form on the end. "I don't work by the day, Stephen. I take a lump-sum
fee, and, of course, it's to my interest to get a case cleared up as soon
as I can. But I can't set any time limit on a job like this. This Rivers
killing has more angles than _Nude Descending a Staircase_; I don't know
how much work I'll have to do, or even what kind."

"Well, it'll have to be fast," Gresham told him urgently. "Look. I didn't
kill Arnold Rivers. I hated his guts, and I think whoever did it ought to
get a medal and a testimonial dinner, but I did not kill him. You believe
me?"

"I'm inclined to," Rand replied. "In your law practice, you know what a
lying client is letting himself in for. As my client, you wouldn't lie to
me. You seem t