“She might have missed her mother from the apartment and stepped out to look for her.”
“But then she would have been in negligée or with a wrap over her nightclothes. She was seen fully dressed, as she had been in the evening.”
“Well,” and Bates spoke defiantly, “what does it prove? You haven’t fastened the crime on Mrs Everett yet. You haven’t even any real evidence against her.”
“Oh, yes we have,—but look here, Mr Bates. It won’t do for you to take that antagonistic attitude toward me and my work. As you know, I told you I must follow wherever the trail leads, and this indicative direction must be followed up. It may be that the Everetts are not the ‘women,’ and if so, I’ll find that out. But I may say, that so far, there are, to my mind, no women suspects but the Everetts or—your aunt.”
“I’d rather you’d suspect my aunt! I’d rather the criminal should be my aunt——”
“But, Mr Bates, I can’t consult your preferences as to the identity of the criminal!”
“Now, don’t you worry, Mr Bates,” Zizi said, gently, “I don’t believe your sweetheart or her mother are mixed up in this thing at all.”
“Why, Ziz?” and Wise turned a mild, questioning glance her way. He had great faith in the opinions of his little helper, and was always ready to revise his own judgment if hers contradicted it. For Zizi never spoke thoughtlessly or without reason. And this last remark of hers indicated some knowledge or indication that might turn the trend of suspicion.
“Because that little fluff of a Mrs Everett is too good-natured to kill or to direct the killing of anybody.”
“She isn’t so awfully good-natured!” exclaimed Bates, involuntarily. “You should hear her talk to my aunt!”