“Stocks—six or seven different firms—our home, some undeveloped property north of Middleford in Clausen County, forty thousand dollars in cash, the cars, and the other personal things.”

“That was it?”

“Yes.” If she thought that he was hinting at something, she did not indicate it. She stared at him, waiting. One thing: she had not been Mrs. MacIver all the nine years Miller had known him. She looked to be in her early twenties, but if she said she was just twenty, he would believe it. Leland turned to Miller.

“Fred, you knew MacIver through writing his insurance?”

“Yes.” He pursed his mouth grimly and nodded. “Yes,” he said again.

“What kind of a guy was he? How did he strike you?”

“He was a nice guy—thoughtful, cheerful. Doing business with him was always a pleasure.”

“Um. How old are you, Mrs. MacIver?”

The intercom buzzed.

“I’ll be twenty-six tomorrow.” she said.

“You look younger,” Leland said. “Yes?”

“Excuse me, Mr. Leland, but there’s the reporter from the Star on the telephone and he says it’s urgent. He sounds it, too.”

“All right. Excuse me,” he said to the others. “Hello?”

“Mr. Leland? This is Larry Becker of the Manitou Star. There’s a story going around Port Smith that you’ve made a break in the Mary Shoftel kidnapping. What about it?”

“What about what? Why is it a kidnapping now?”

“Then you do have a story?”

He should have thought before he answered. “I don’t know if I do or not. I haven’t been out of Manitou in a month.”

“That doesn’t matter. Let me ask you one question. Did you get a telephone call this morning from the Port Smith Police Department?”

“I don’t know. Did I?”

“You certainly did, Mr. Leland.”

“Let me make you a deal,” Leland said. “You tell me how you got your information, and I’ll tell you what the call was about.”

“I have to protect my sources, Mr. Leland.”

“Then I can’t help you.”

“You refuse to cooperate?”

Leland swung his chair around toward the windows. “Listen, kid, if you really knew your job, you’d have been able to figure out what that call was about without bothering me, but because you’re such a dimwit, you don’t even have a so-called source anymore. I’ll see you around.” He hung up and pressed the intercom button. “Flo, come in here a moment.”

“Yes, sir.”