“What do you mean?”
“Be your age, dearie,” Bertha said. “Go to your boy friend and…”
“I haven’t a boy friend.”
“Get one, then.”
“I...I... well, you see, I…”
“You haven’t seen Donald Lam today, have you?”
“No.”
“My God,” Bertha said, “What a mess! The police are spreading it all over the country that he’s guilty of a sex murder. The little stinker!”
“Oh, no!” Claire Bushnell exclaimed.
“That’s right. This girl who was choked to death with her own stocking, lying half-nude on the bedroom floor.”