"Mm, yes. I made the reservation just a few minutes ago. But I haven't
much reason to stay here any longer, have I?"
"The Lombardi murder."
Owens shook his head. "Poor chap. But what can I do about it? I assure
you, the police didn't ask me to stay in town."
He gave Kintyre a straight look, smiled, and went on: "Why don't you
sit down and talk to me, though? I'm more or less stuck till Clayton
arrives. He said he'd meet me here."
"Clayton? Why--" Kintyre moved slowly forward, to the armchair Owens
waved at. He continued talking, inanely. "I thought Clayton was in the
City. He told me yesterday when we had lunch, he told me he'd be going
right over there and didn't expect to come back to this side in the
near future."
"Oh? I called him at the Fairhill, just before you got here. He was
right in his suite."