I said, “Let’s go into the history of this thing, Sellers. Lucille Hollister was crazy about her young sister, Rosalind. Rosalind was in love with Stanwick Carlton. Stanwick Carlton’s wife may have done a little playing around. Lucille thought she did, anyway. She wanted to bust up Stanwick’s marriage.”
“Who told you all this?” Sellers asked.
“Lucille.”
“When?”
“Just before she died.”
Sellers’ eyes lit up with the gleam of a hunter finding a fresh trail. “So you admit you were in the bedroom with her just before she died.”
I looked him in the eyes and said, “Yes.”
“Why did you kill her, Donald? Was it a sex murder?”
“Don’t be silly,” I said. “In the first place, I didn’t kill her. In the second place, it wasn’t a sex murder. Someone killed her to keep her from talking.”
“About what?”