“What time?”
She said, “It was exactly seven minutes past ten. I looked at my watch.”
“And then what?”
“Donald, I’m going to tell you the truth. I was frightened. I hid. I watched. I tell you, I saw people moving around in that cabin after the shots and I saw a car drive away. Then I beat it. I could hardly walk. My knees wouldn’t work.”
“Then what?”
“Then I hitch-hiked. I gave the usual story about being out with a man who had made me walk home. The man who was driving the car was very gallant.”
“He drove you here?”
“Don’t be simple, Donald! I didn’t want to leave a back trail. I had him take me to a downtown hotel. I told him I lived there. Then after he’d gone, I picked up a taxicab and came out here.”
“And I suppose you handed the man a story that was very well embellished with all of the lurid details.”
“Naturally,” she said. “When a man picks up a woman at a time like that he expects at least a good story.”