“Your lack of intelligence,” Paula said promptly. “It’s a change for women to talk down to men.”
“All right, break it up!” I said sharply, as Kerman began to rise slowly from his chair, his hand reaching for the whisky bottle. “Never mind what she looks like. What did she say about Janet?”
Kerman resumed his seat, glaring at Paula.
“She said she was the most surprised person on earth to hear Janet had died of heart failure. Two days before she died, she played tennis with the Parmetta girl, and wiped the floor with her. Does that sound like heart trouble?”
“Anything else?”
“I asked her about this guy Sherrill. He’s out of town, by the way. I didn’t see him. Joan Parmetta said Janet was madly in love with Sherrill. They saw a lot of each other. Then a week before Macdonald Crosby’s death Sherrill stopped going to the house, and the engagement was broken off. There was no reason given, and even Joan, who was intimate with Janet, didn’t get the lowdown, although she fished for it. Janet said they had a disagreement, and she didn’t want to talk about it.”
“Did she say what kind of a guy this Sherrill was?” Kerman shrugged.
“She only met him a few times. She said he was handsome, has no idea what his job is, whether he has money or not. He has a house on Rossmore Avenue. Small, but nice. A Chinese girl looks after the place.” He blew a kiss to the ceiling. “She’s nice, too. I didn’t get much out of her, though. She had no idea when Sherrill would be back. The guy lives well and must be making money. There was a Cadillac the size of a battleship in the garage, and the garden looked as if plenty of dough had been spent on it. There was a swimming-pool, too, and the usual lush trappings; all on the small side, but very, very nice.”
“That the lot?” Kerman nodded.
Briefly I told him of my call on Eudora Drew, how Big Boy had arrived, of the murder and my interview with Brandon. He sat listening, his eyes growing rounder and rounder, his drink forgotten.