He sold it in 1942 for his middle
price."
There was another flash by the door, then Kavaalen called out:
"Hey, Mick; we got two of the stiffs, now. All right if we pull out the
bayonet for a close-up of his chest?"
"Sure. Better chalkline it, first; you'll move things jerking that
bayonet out." He turned back to Rand. "You think, then, that maybe some
card in that file would have gotten somebody in trouble, and he had to
croak Rivers to get it, and then burned the rest of the cards for a
cover-up?"
"That's the way it looks to me," Rand agreed. "Just because I can't think
of any other possibility, though, doesn't mean that there aren't any
others."
"Hey! You think he might have been selling modern arms to criminals,
without reporting the sale?" McKenna asked.
"I wouldn't put it past him," Rand considered. "There was very little
that I would put past that fellow. But I wouldn't think he'd be stupid
enough to carry a record of such sales in his own file, though."
McKenna rubbed the butt of his .38 reflectively; that seemed to be his
substitute for head-scratching, as an aid to cerebration.
"You said you were here yesterday, and bought a pistol," he began. "All
right; I know about that collection of yours.
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