He changed his tone. “Our cards are face up on your table, Mr. Fanneal,” he said, respectfully enough. “We’re not accusin’ you of any doin’s; but we think you know more about him who was Jerry Fanneal than you are telling us.”
“What do you think I know?”
“We figure that you thought he was up by Mr. Scofield’s big house last night and that’s why you was there; we think you was lookin’ for him when you bumped into Mrs. Scofield comin’ out.”
I could deny that directly and I did. “That’s wrong.”
“You didn’t know he was there or you didn’t expect him there?”
“No: that’s flat.”
“Where may he be now? Do you know that?”
“I do not.”
“That’s flat too, sir?”