“The police have it.”
“Lordy!” Ivy dropped into a chair and pretended to faint. “Now how does that come about?” she asked, cocking one eye up at her caller.
“Oh, I fancy you know.”
“Come on—let’s put all the cards on the table. You don’t think I had anything to do with the—the fatal deed, do you?”
“What fatal deed?”
“Don’t be silly. I told you to be frank. Old Gleason’s murder, to be sure.”
“You left your fur there?”
“Yep, I did.”
“The day of the murder?”
“Sure. I was there that afternoon.”