“These things happen,” I said shortly. “I remember during the Tetzi trial, the police mislaid…”
“Never mind the Tetzi trial,” Brandon said in a voice you could have sliced ham on.
“We’re talking about this letter. You went up to the Crosby’s estate with the idea of seeing Miss Maureen Crosby. Right?”
“Yeah,” I said, getting a little tired of this.
“But you didn’t see her because she isn’t well, so you had to stick your nose still further into this business by calling on Miss Janet Crosby’s personal maid. Right?”
“If you like to put it like that I don’t mind.”
“Is it right or isn’t it?”
“Oh, sure.”
“This woman Drew said she wanted five hundred dollars before she talked. That’s your story, and I’m not sold on it. You watched the house, and after a while an olive-green Dodge arrived and a big fella went in. He remained in there for about ten minutes, then came away. Then you went in and found her dead. Right?”
I nodded.