firmly in place. Loneshark stared at the solid wall, which showed no signs that it ever had been opened. Mick shifted from his contemplation of the wall to fully focus his attention on Clint. Again, he realized the mountain mentor's revelations always contained secondary points. The detective didn't waste time on conjecture; he simply asked, "What are you telling me?"
Clint smiled his approval of Loneshark's insightful inquiry. "When we first met, you offhandedly suggested that your experience was the criteria for your selection," Indigence stated, smirked, and shook his head. "No! He would have chosen his wisest man."
Mick did not insult Clint's intelligence with a denial or by questioning who He was. Loneshark swept his hand toward the wall and admitted, "If you were testing my wisdom, I failed miserably."
"This . . ." Clint paused to point a trembling finger at the wall. "This was no test, Mick. King Solomon himself could not have passed such an impossible exam. No, but I do have a test of wisdom for you that consists of only one question. Do you accept the challenge?" Without the slightest hesitation, Mick gave his landlord a single nod of acceptance. "What metaphorical statement am I making to you by revealing the secret of this empty safe?"
The deep furrows formed between the detective's blond brows as his blues eyes fell vacantly upon the ever-present bulge in Clint's shirt pocket from the box of unsmoked cigarettes. Like Captain Middleman, Mr. Indigence could sense the aura of the intellectual energy emanating from the synaptic flow in Mick's brilliant brain. The furrows first became shallow and then smoothed. Loneshark answered, "The statement, you are so elaborately demonstrating, is that you haven't hidden anything from me."
As his smoky eyes dilated, the old man solemnly spoke three short words, "He chose well." A slow smile spread across Clint's face as he turned to walk out of the kitchen. When Clint reached the door, Mick quietly called his name. Indigence stopped with his hand trembling upon the knob. Clint's back was straight, and his shoulders were squared. His head was held high. Staring at the door, Indigence acknowledged the detective's quiet summons with a simple, "Yes."
"Your question begs a more comprehensive answer." Mr. Indigence did not turn or speak. Clint's shoulders slightly sagged, and his head lowered, as though physically preparing for the detective's ax to fall. Mick continued, "Demonstrating you have nothing hidden doesn't prove you have nothing to hide."
Before pushing through the door, Clint resolutely proclaimed, "He chose very well!"
