I tried to find somebody else who had been in the station when the train came in but didn’t have any luck. They couldn’t remember.
I went back to the car and that made me think about the blue Chrysler again. It was just possible that the Mackay girl had come down from Salt Lake by rail, and the boy-friend or brother or whatever he was had driven down. It didn’t look particularly sensible but it was an idea. Maybe they didn’t want to appear to be traveling together or something.
I stopped at all the garages and gas-stations I could find but I couldn’t get a line on the Chrysler. I went back to the hotel and looked at the register and found out that Miss Mackay had put down Chicago as her home, and I finagled around for a half hour and talked to the sheriff and the clerk and everybody who looked like they wanted to talk but I didn’t get any more angles.
The sheriff said he’d wired Chicago because it looked like Healey and Miss Mackay were both from Chicago, and that he’d found a letter in one of Healey’s old coats from a Chicago attorney. The letter was about a divorce, and the sheriff had a hunch that Miss Mackay was Mrs. Healey.
I had a sandwich and a piece of pie in the hotel restaurant and bundled up and went out and got in the car and started for L A.
I didn’t get up till around eleven o’clock Tuesday morning. I had breakfast in my room and wired a connection in Chi to send me all he could get on Miss Mackay and her brother. I called the desk and got the number of Card’s room and on the way down stopped in to see him.
He was sitting in his nightshirt by the window, reading the morning papers. I sat down and asked him how he was enjoying his vacation and he said swell, and then he said: “I see by the papers that our friend Healey had an accident.”
I nodded.
Card chuckled: “Tch, tch, tch. His wife will sure be cut up.”
I smiled a little and said, “Uh-huh,” and Card looked up and said: “What the hell are you grinning about and what do you mean: Uh-huh?”