like your wife doesn’t want to mess around with kids.”
Conrad shrugged his shoulders.
“Oh, well, what’s the good of talking? All the same I would like to have a son, and a daughter, too, for that matter.”
O’Brien wiped his face with his handkerchief.
“Why don’t you turn in?” he asked, wondering how much longer Conrad was going to stay outside the bathroom door. “If you’re going out again at three you’ll need some sleep.”
“I couldn’t sleep in this storm. How long is he going to be in there?”
“Twenty minutes or so. Hark at that thunder.”
“I wish that Coleman girl would make up her mind to talk,” Conrad said after the rolling crash of thunder had died away. “I’m positive she saw Maurer.”
“Doesn’t look as if she’ll talk now. What are you going to do with her?”
“The D.A. will have to decide that.”