“Read it?”
“Yes. That is, I just glanced at it — the way one will.”
“The way one will?” Sergeant Sellers repeated.
“What the hell! You didn’t think I was going to find a woman dead and not look around, did you?”
“You know that we don’t like to have people messing around, leaving fingerprints when they come on corpses.”
“Well, I had to find out she was dead, didn’t I?”
“That’s what I’m getting at. You lost her here — let’s see, when was it — Wednesday?”
“Wednesday about noon.”
“I see. You find her just as it’s getting dark Friday night. She’s slumped over in the automobile and, as you expressed it, you could smell the odour of death. You touched her and she was cold. You spoke to her and she didn’t move. And then you-picked up this paper and read it in order to convince yourself she was dead.”
“Well, I—”