"Well, that's about all there is to it. Of course, I showed Fred Dunmore
the Leech & Rigdon, and told him it was the gun I'd gotten from the
coroner. That was all he needed to tell him that I was onto the murder,
and probably onto him as the murderer. But he had evidently assumed that
already; that was after he'd assembled my .38 and that .25 automatic, and
was planning to double-kill me and Anton Varcek. At that, he'd have
probably killed me, if I hadn't been wearing that bulletproof vest of
McKenna's. I owe Mick for my life; I'll have to buy him a drink,
sometime, to square that."
"Well, how about Walters, and the pistols he stole?" Gladys asked.
"Didn't that have anything to do with it?"
"No. It was a result of Mr. Fleming's death, of course. I understand that
the situation here had deteriorated rather abruptly after Mr. Fleming's
death. Walters was about fed up on the way things were here, and he was
going to hand in his notice. Then he decided that he ought to have a
stake to tide him over till he could get another buttling job, so he
started higrading the collection."
Gladys nodded. "I suppose he decided, after Lane's death, that he didn't
owe anybody here anything. Too bad he didn't wait, though.
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