“That’s exactly what they say I did.”
“Did you?”
“Of course not!”
“How about this judgment Nunnely has against you? What’s happened to that?”
“That’s why I owe you an apology, Mrs. Cool. If I’d left it in your hands we could have had that settled, but I had to get temperamental and put it in the hands of a lawyer.”
“What happened?”
“Everything happened. The lawyer got in touch with Nunnely, made an appointment for Nunnely to come to his office this morning. Last night after Mabel’s body was discovered, I tried and tried to get in touch with this lawyer. I couldn’t do it. His home reported that he was out of town. I learned afterward that that was what he had told the maid to tell anyone who called up, because his wife was giving a bridge party and he didn’t want to be disturbed.”
“And this morning?” Bertha asked.
“This morning we met in the lawyer’s office. Nunnely had a morning paper under his arm, but he hadn’t read it — hadn’t opened it, even. I was trembling with anxiety to get the thing over with. The lawyer fooled around with so darned many technicalities in getting the release worded just right that Nunnely finally sat back in his chair, lit a cigarette, and opened the newspaper. I tried to signal that damned fool lawyer, but he was looking up some law on the subject of releases, trying to find out just how to ‘protect my interests.’ ”
“What happened?” Bertha asked, her eyes showing interest.