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 to think you may be suspected of purging Rivers. But why? Is
there any reason, aside from that homemade North & Cheney he sold you,
why anybody would think you'd killed him?"
"Great God, yes!" Gresham exclaimed. "Now look. I'm not worried about
being railroaded for this. I didn't do it, and I can beat any case that
half-assed ex-ambulance-chaser, Farnsworth, could dream up against me.
But I can't afford even to be mentioned in connection with this. You know
what that would do to me, in town. I just can't get mixed up in this, at
all. I want you to see to it that I don't."
"That sounds like a large order." The ash was growing on Rand's cigar;
he took another heavy drag at it. "But why necessarily you? Rivers had
plenty of other enemies.
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