“Were you there when she died?”
She took hold of the front door and drew it against her side.
“I tell you I don’t know anything about it, and I haven’t the time to waste on something that doesn’t concern me.”
I studied the hard, suspicious face.
“Miss Drew, do you know what makes scarcely any noise but can be heard a mile away?” I asked, and smiled knowingly at her.
“You screwy or something?”
“Some people can hear it two miles away. Have a guess?”
She lifted her solid shoulders impatiently.
“Okay, I’ll buy it—what?”
“A hundred-dollar bill, folded in two and rustled gently between finger and thumb.”