“I’m sorry…”
“Yes.” Parker ran his hand over his face. “She’s taken it pretty hard. Of course her mother heard all about it. She made things damned difficult. This could break up my home.”
“I can’t say how sorry I am.”
“Well, I brought it on myself. It’s damned funny, but I felt so safe with Fay. I thought I could get away with it. What a fool I’ve been!” He looked up suddenly and stared hard at Ken. “But that’s enough about me. I’m not going to talk any more about my troubles. There’s something else I want to say. The sergeant gave me a description of the man they want. They think he killed Fay. I’ve been thinking about what he said.” He leaned forward and went on, “Are you quite sure, Holland, that you didn’t go to Fay’s apartment last night?”
Ken’s heart skipped a beat, then raced. He felt himself change colour. He made a desperate attempt to meet Parker’s eyes, but he couldn’t do it. To hide his fear, he reached for a cigarette; lit it, then said, his voice hoarse and shaky, “I don’t know what you’re driving at, Max. I’ve told you before: I spent the evening here.”
Parker continued to stare at him.
“I think you’re lying,” he said. “Did you go to her apartment?”
“I tell you I didn’t!” Ken cried, starting to his feet.
“Good God!” Parker said, his face turning pale. “When he gave me the description it occurred to me it fitted you. I wondered if you had done it, but I couldn’t believe you had. Now I know you did it!”
Ken felt so frightened he could scarcely breathe.