Murder for Two by George Harmon Coxe

Casey got in with her. Logan was still standing on the sidewalk and even in the semi-darkness you could see his neck bulge.
    â€œWell, come on,” Casey said. “What’re we waiting for?”

Chapter Five
    A L ADY T AKES A P ICTURE
    T HE ADDRESS Manahan had given Logan proved to be a double house on a quiet, tree-lined street, and when they went up on the steps they saw that Henry Byrkman occupied the lower flat. Logan punched the bell and said he’d do the talking.
    â€œMr. Byrkman?” he asked when the door opened. “I’m Lieutenant Logan, from Police Headquarters. I’d like to talk to you for a few minutes.”
    Henry Byrkman had put on the porch light when he opened the door and now he stood there blinking, a thin, colorless, mousy little man with rimless glasses and a wart on his cheek. It took him so long to find his tongue that Logan moved in, forcing him to drop back.
    â€œWhy, yes,” he said then. “Come in.”
    They went into a small hall and through this to a living-room that was surprisingly well-furnished considering the exterior of the house. There were a lot of books, and the walls were covered with water colors and in one corner was an easel and a paint-smeared bench.
    Byrkman asked them to sit down and Karen Harding walked over to a corner near the inner hall, as though she was getting used to corner chairs and keeping out of the way. Logan took a chair near the center table and Byrkman sat opposite him. Casey, opening his plate-case, took a straight-backed chair a few feet away.
    â€œYou used to work for Matt Lawson, didn’t you?” Logan said.
    â€œLawson?” Byrkman let his brows come up but behind the rimless glasses something flickered and died.
    Logan smiled thinly and his jaw got hard. He leaned forward, dangling his hat between his hands. “Look,” he said patiently, “you’re going to save a lot of time and perhaps a little trouble for yourself by telling the truth. We didn’t ride all the way out here to put on a quiz program. You used to work for Matt Lawson.”
    â€œYes, I did,” Byrkman said. “But”—he looked helplessly about—“I don’t understand this. I mean, why you’re here.”
    â€œYou will,” Logan said. “Your name used to be Byrnes. What made you change it?”
    Byrkman’s shoulders seemed to sag at that. He ran his hand over his hair. He didn’t have much and what there was he had combed straight back.
    â€œNo particular reason—except—well, you see, I do some painting and I got to using the name because it was different.”
    â€œYou changed it all of a sudden, didn’t you? After you left Lawson’s office?”
    Casey had opened his camera and checked the focus. He screwed in a flashbulb and listened to Byrkman’s reply, forgetting now his previous annoyance at Logan in his interest at seeing him work. He always liked to watch Logan work—on somebody else—and now, knowing that the lieutenant had practically nothing to go on, he waited to see how far he would get.
    â€œWhy did you leave?” he said now.
    â€œWe—we had a disagreement.”
    Logan looked pointedly about the room. “You’ve got a nice place here. Where’re you working now?”
    â€œI’m not, at the moment.”
    â€œWhen did you work last? Or maybe you have an independent income?”
    â€œI have a small income,” Byrkman said.
    â€œDidn’t it start about the time you left Lawson?”
    â€œWhy—shortly after that, I guess. An uncle died.”
    â€œOh, yes,” Logan said, and Casey thought, Boy, how you guess ’em! “You know John Perry, don’t you?” Logan continued.
    Again Byrkman hesitated, but Logan’s steady gaze pinned him down. “Yes, I knew who he was.”
    â€œLawson and Perry had some trouble, didn’t they? How long after that did you