Did her getting shot have something to do with Max and what he was messed up in? Yep. You never know when you might not want to touch something or leave any fingerprints. She picked up the two pieces of paper and left his office, closing the door behind her. Devine started to say something but then didnt. She looked surprised at the inquiry.No, I wouldnt do that. How? He lifted his lanyard from around his neck and looked at his security badge. He had not been in the building when Ewes had been murdered. So maybe someone had stolen his badge and then returned it before he woke up at his home in the suburbs, which he did not think was likely at all because the timing was just too tight.Or maybe someone hacked into the system and set me up as the fall guy. That was also not easy to do. But for the person who had sent an email that could not be traced by the best in the business, it might be a piece of cake. This whole business is absurd, Alder said. I was excited Saturday night, and I was confused yesterday morning. I didnt realize any lawyer was going to browbeat me… You still havent answered my question, Doxey told him. Not really. Died a couple of years ago in an old folks home down in Savannah. Somehow he gets one of the niggers to bring him a jug. Old Cabin Still, I hear. Pays the nigger twenty dollars. Maybe twenty-five. Theyre not sure cause the nigger lied, of course. Well, Shortyd been off the booze for a couple of years on account of his heart, but he gets this fifth and drinks her down in a couple of hours and then passes out and dies dead drunk and probably happy. The radio wasnt left turned on when you and Doxey drove up? Devine left her on the roof and hit the street once more. He had only gone about ten feet when he had an idea. He used his phone to look up the real estate records to see who owned Montgomerys building. Six cars and twelve men. When I was through talking it was nearly six-thirty and I noticed with some surprise that I had finished only half my drink. The ice had melted in it, but it was still cool, so I drank some of it anyway. There was no desk in the room, just an oak library table against one dark-paneled wall. The drapes were of plum velvet and the carpet was a deep mauve color. In front of the street windows were a couple of comfortable-looking wing-backed leather chairs with a small table in between them. The chairs would be nice to sit in after a good lunch and watch it rain on the pedestrians. There was also a couch or two in the room, one of which looked like it would be just right for an afternoon nap. Flanking the fireplace was a cane-backed settee and a deep leather armchair that a man was sitting in, an open grey file on his lap. He looked up at me, put the file down on a table that held a 1908-type telephone, and got up. He didnt offer to shake hands; instead he nodded at me, and gestured that I should sit on the settee. Im fine. Is it safe to go in now? I looked around the living room.Where?.