“I’m Lieutenant Adams of the Homicide Department. Take it easy. You don’t know it yet, but the last thing you want to do is to make a statement to the officer in charge of the Carson killing. He’s got a one-track mind. Now sit down and stop wasting time. I want your story. I want to know who you are, how you met Fay Carson and what happened last night. Don’t rush it. I want as many details as you can remember. Now start talking.”
Ken made his statement. He told Adams what had happened the previous evening, omitting no details, and as he came to the end of his story there was something about the little Lieutenant’s expression that gave him hope.
“I know I have behaved badly,” he concluded, “and I’m paying for it, but I didn’t kill her. I should have come to you before this, but I funked it. I wasn’t so much thinking of myself, I had to think of my wife. I wanted to keep it from her, but I don’t see how I can now.”
Adams stared at him for a long minute, then he pulled thoughtfully at his nose.
“If I were married, which fortunately I’m not,” he said, “and if I had been mug enough to have gone to a callgirl, I would have acted as you did in the same circumstances.”
“Does that mean you believe me?” Ken asked eagerly.
Adams shrugged.
“It doesn’t matter a damn if I believe you or not. The final word is with the jury. Now, let’s check on a few details. You had no idea there was someone else in the apartment beside you until the lights went out?”
“No idea at all.”
“You didn’t see this guy?”