“While she was running?”
“Why not?”
I said, “If he missed the first shot while she was standing still, he must have improved his shooting a lot between the time of the first and second shot while she was running.”
“Perhaps the woman turned her back to him, knowing he was going to shoot her. It was a suicide-pact and she couldn’t face the gun, or perhaps he couldn’t get up his nerve to shoot her in the forehead.”
“That’s logical,” I said, “but then why did he miss the first shot, and why did he miss it that far?”
“What do you mean that far?”
I said, “A woman who’s standing up has her head over five feet above the floor. A suitcase on the floor isn’t more than eighteen inches high. If he was shooting at her head, and missed, and hit the suitcase…”
“I get it!” Bertha said. “I get it!” Her little eyes blinked rapidly. She let her lips soften in a smile. “Donald,” she said, “you’re smart — at times — damn smart. Now, what can Bertha do to help?”
I said, “You can ring up Bob Elgin and tell him your partner wants to talk with him. Tell him that you’d appreciate it if he’d give me an hour.”
“Hand me the phone,” Bertha said.