“Not even chickens.... Of course, his children might. Colored people love chicken, you know.”
“I’m going to get Elsie to take me to see them this afternoon.” Mary Louise rose from her chair. “I won’t take any more of your time, Mr. Grant—unless you can tell me what to do. I don’t like to go to the police without Miss Grant’s consent.”
“No, I wouldn’t do that. If there is something queer about her possession of the necklace, it would be better for her to lose it than to have an old disgrace exposed. At Aunt Mattie’s age, I mean. We better wait until she gets well.”
Mary Louise nodded: that was exactly her idea too. Unless, of course, one of the family had taken it—Corinne Pearson or Harry Grant.
“But I guess it would be all right to speak to Daddy in confidence about it,” she said, “and get his advice.”
“Your father?”
“Yes. He is Detective Gay, of the police force. You’ve heard of him?”
“Oh, yes, certainly. But tell him not to bring in the police—yet.”
Mary Louise held out her hand.
“Thank you so much, Mr. Grant, for giving me your time,” she said. “I’ll get in touch with you later.”