Inspector Putt said coldly.
'Mr. Osterflood and I paid a social call on Miss Potrelli. Frank made us all several drinks while we watched television
and engaged in sexual congresses. I left with Frank lying on the floor with a blissful smile on his face. Where is old
Frank, by the way?'
'He's dead, damn you,' said Gina.
'Shuttup,' said the inspector and then went on quietly: 'The body of Frank Osterflood was discovered on November 15
in the East River under the Triborough Bridge. An autopsy has revealed that he'd been dead about two days. He was poisoned with strychnine.'
He looked only at Rhinehart. 'You or Gina here - one of you - was the last one to see Osterflood alive.' `Maybe he just took a midnight swim in the East River and accidentally swallowed some water,' suggested Dr. Rhinehart.
`The percentage solution of strychnine in the East River,' said Inspector Putt soberly, 'is still at acceptable levels.'
'But then I wonder what happened to him,' said Dr. Rhinehart.
`Traces of strychnine have been found on the shelf above Gina's liquor cabinet and in the rug in front of the TV set.'
'How interesting.'
'You mixed the drinks!' Gina said shrilly.
'I did? No, my story is that Osterflood mixed them.'
Dr. Rhinehart scowled in concentration. 'Maybe a dice decision made him decide to kill himself in retribution for his
sins. He showed certain masochistic tendencies.'
'You mixed the drinks and you left with him,' Gina said again shrilly.
'Not according to my story, Miss Potrelli. According to my story I left first and he left later.'
'Oh,' she said. 'You're a liar.'
'Let's just say we have different stories. This confuses the inspector and makes him uneasy.'
'There are already four other witnesses who claim that they saw you leave with Osterflood, Rhinehart" said the
detective.
'Ahh, four! That shows initiative, Gina. It would be a shame to waste those witnesses.'
Dr. Rhinehart retrieved his die from the desk and dropped it onto the couch beside his thigh.
'I left with Osterflood, Inspector.'
'Where did you go?'
'Where did we go, Gina?'
`You took a tax-'
`Shuttup! Get her out of here.'
Gina was removed from the room by the detective.
`We got in a taxi, I believe. I got off at the Lexington Avenue subway stop at 125th Street. I needed to relieve myself.
Osterflood went on. He was quite drunk and I felt slightly guilty about leaving him with a suspiciously cheerful cabby,
but I was drunk too. I found a urinal near-'
'Why did you lie to us the first time?'
`Who says I lied to you the first time?'
`You've just changed your story.'
'Details.'
'Gina's witnesses exposed your lie.'
`Come now, Inspector, you know full well that her four witnesses are even less reliable than the dice, and that's going
some.'
`Shuttup!'
'And besides, the Die told me to change the story.'
The inspector was glaring at Dr. Rhinehart.
`You'd better consult your dice again,' he said. 'No cabby in the city remembers picking up two big white men in
Harlem that evening, or for that matter any evening in the last five years. You, as a doctor, would have recognized the symptoms of strychnine poisoning as different from simple drunkenness. We know Gina and her four witnesses are lying. We know you're lying. We know Osterflood was murdered at Gina's and never left there alive.
Inspector Putt and Dr. Rhinehart stared at each other.
`Wow!' Dr. Rhinehart said after awhile. He leaned forward on the couch, wide-eyed, attentive, interested, and asked intently: `Who killed him?'
Chapter Ninety
Dear Doc, The Die told me to write you. Can't think of much to say. Die bless you, Fred Weedmuller, Porksnout, Texas. Chapter Ninety-one A week after my interview with him, Inspector Putt announced to anyone who was interested that new evidence