“Then how do you account for the fact that your handwriting expert says the will was the last thing burned? Those ashes were on the very top of the heap.”
“I—” Carlotta turned in frantic appeal, not to Mrs. Goldring, but to her mother, Mrs. Croftus.
Mrs. Croftus said with quiet dignity, “I don’t think I’d argue the matter with him, darling. It’s very plain that he’s trying to take the side of this woman, so that we can’t sue her for defamation of character. Don’t you think we’d better all wait until we’ve seen a lawyer about suing Mrs. Cool? I know a lawyer who will be glad to handle the case. Let’s go and see him right now. He’ll file suit against her.”
Sergeant Sellers looked at Mrs. Croftus with respect. “That’s a damned slick way of smothering an idea with words,” he said. “It sounds very nice the way you say it; but, when you strip the verbiage off, what you’re actually doing is telling the girl not to say anything more until she’s seen a lawyer.”
“About bringing a suit for defamation of character,” Mrs. Croftus said icily.
“But seeing a lawyer just the same,” Sellers insisted.
“Well, what do you want us to do — sit here and take all of these insults?”
“No,” Sergeant Sellers announced with slow deliberation. “I want you to go up to the D.A.’s office and make written statements — and I want you to start right now. Is there any objection?”
“Certainly there’s an objection. I never heard of such highhanded procedure in my life.”
“Well, I should say so!” Mrs. Goldring snapped. “We’ll see a lawyer before we—”