“There’s something cockeyed about it.”
“In the first place,” she said, “how would I have got down there? I didn’t have a car.”
“How do we know you didn’t? You told us that your husband was out working and had his car, but... by God, Lam, I believe you’ve got something! Dover Fulton didn’t have the car with him. He’d left the car at home. His wife got in the car, beat it down to the KOZY DELL SLUMBER COURT, made a scene and the scene terminated in a shooting, and she was afraid to drive the car back. She…”
Sellers’s voice trailed off into silence.
“Running out of ideas?” Mrs. Fulton asked sarcastically.
“No, just getting them,” Sellers said. “You got any way of showing where you were at ten-fifteen? Any way at all?”
She hesitated a moment, then said, “Certainly I have.”
“What is it?”
“A man called up just about ten-fifteen,” she said, “and asked me if my husband was home. Then he said something about a Lucille Hart, who was supposed to be my sister. I told him I didn’t have any sister. And then he hung up. But all we have to do is to find that man and…”
“Nice stuff,” Sellers said sarcastically. “All we have to do is to find one guy out of the three or four million phone subscribers who are within reaching distance.”