“Turn your back a minute,” she said. “This is going to be intimate.”
I turned my back, but said over my shoulder, “You don’t need to be so delicate about it. The police have pawed through everything in there.”
“Not with me looking on, they haven’t.”
I walked over to the window and smoked a cigarette.
Elsie said, “Come on back. I think this was the blouse she was wearing at the time — well, you know, at the time she went to the motor court.”
“I think so too, Elsie. I can’t prove it, but I think so.”
“And when she folded it she had to fold it like this,” Elsie said.
I saw the way she had wadded the garment up. The bullet holes were now all in proper line, but the garment was half-folded, half-rolled and compressed into a small space.
I said, “Would you have folded it that way?”
She shook her head.