“Well, it seems to me it would be easy. If you’d let it be known in the paper. .”
“We might, at that,” Sellers interrupted. “You answered the phone personally?”
“That’s right.”
“Talked with this man?”
“Yes.”
“Think he’d recognise your voice?”
“He should — he should be able to tell it again. In any event, he can tell that some grown woman was at my address and answered the telephone. That would certainly seem to dispose of this wild theory you have.”
Sellers drove for a while in silence.
“And how do you think I got home after the shooting?” Mrs. Fulton asked.
“You probably hitch-hiked,” Sellers said. “You’d locked the car when you went there and you were afraid to... Now, wait a minute. Donald Lam’s card was in there, and... Where’s your coin purse?”