“Lighter?”
“A whole lot lighter.”
Sellers sighed and started the car. “Okay,” he said wearily. “That’s just the way it goes. You have to investigate all of these angles.”
While we were driving back to San Robles, I said casually to Sellers, “What time do you figure the shooting took place, Sellers?”
“Right around ten-fifteen, as nearly as we can determine. You know how it is in a case of that kind. No one pays enough attention to look at the time, and then they have to approximate it afterwards, but it was right around ten-fifteen.”
“Checked up on everybody?” I asked.
“Uh huh,” he said wearily.
“How about Mrs. Fulton?”
“What about her?”
“Checked up on her?”