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He rode the elevator down to the lobby and decided to do a direct frontal assault on an entrenched foe. He sent a text to Brad Cowl after taking some time to compose it in his head. Cowl was a transactional guy. So Devine was going to give him an offer he couldnt refuse. I didnt know, Drake said. I didnt choose to report it. What revolver did you use? My goodness, Mr. Mason, dont be naïve. Every good real estate man has a collection of skeleton keys. I filched these from Ennys car. She had just turned twenty-eight, Devine knew, and had been at Cowl and Comely a little over six years. Ewes was tall and lean, with a long-distance runners build. No slouch academically, shed earned her MBA from Columbia while toiling here, and had obviously made the cut. Normally, the weed-out was complete after one year. Devine had been here six months, which meant he had another six to go before he was either shown the door or elevated to the next level. AT NINE-FIVE MONDAT MORNING WHEN MASON ENTERED his office, Della Street, her finger on her lips, looked up from the phone in Masons private office, said into the mouthpiece, Yes, Mrs. Brawley, yes, indeed. Could you hold the phone just a momentP Someone is calling on the other plume. Late last night or very, very early this morning. It seems she had on her same clothes from yesterday. I guess they can tell from the condition of the body how long shed been dead, she added, turning pale. Some on his part, none on mine. He tried to pump me for information, and I told him I didnt have any. Shes left the country. Like wind. I thought the ads say, At sixty miles per hour, the loudest noise is the ticking of the clock. Yes or no? Hoyt asked. No. I would never have put up with it, but she did. She even had a small fling herself once — she never told me who with — but she felt guilty about it. Even if Dad wasnt faithful, she wanted to be. She just waited him out. And it always worked out well. He got tired of them. Mom even hadit figured out mathematically. Fourteen weeks tops. She sat down in a green wing-backed chair that was one of a matched set that flanked the fireplace. She looked at me, almost staring. At thirty-five Dorothy Quane was still a striking woman with one of those finely boned faces that help keep the years away. She wore no lipstick, not even a touch, but then she had never worn any. Her dark grey eyes were clear and I wouldnt have known that she had been crying if it hadnt been for her nose. It was red and shiny at the tip and I remembered that it always got like that when she cried, which I also remembered was often on Sunday afternoons. Especially on wet, rainy Sunday afternoons. You reallywerent at Cowl for the money. I knew it, she added in a self-satisfied tone. Sure, Harvey. Another time. And give you a chance to think up a story? Mason asked...