Rosalind said, “She’s feeling pretty low today. She was a witness on that murder case.”
“You mean the lawyer that was killed?”
“Yes.”
“The deuce! What did she know about it?”
“She heard the shot — just as she was opening the door of her apartment house.”
“And the realization that she had heard the shot that caused the death of someone upset her?” I asked.
“Not Marilyn. She was upset because the officers woke her up to question her, and she lost some of her beauty sleep.”
“Does she drink?” I asked.
The girl looked at me suddenly, said, “You’re a detective, aren’t you?”
I raised my eyebrows in a gesture of surprise. “Me, a detective?”