“Yes, you are. You want to talk with her about that shooting, don’t you?”
I said, “I’ve been accused of lots of things in my life, but I think this is the first time anyone has taken a good look at me and said I looked like a detective.”
“You are, just the same. Okay, you’re a good sort. I’ll give you a tip. Marilyn Winton is as cold as an electric icebox, but she’s accurate. If she says that shot was fired at two-thirty, it was fired at two-thirty, and you don’t need to waste time worrying about it.”
“But you will get her over here so I can talk with her?”
“Uh huh. And that makes me feel better.”
“What does?”
“Your being a detective. I thought perhaps you really were falling for her.”
“Tell me about that love affair of hers. How did the man get her to fall for him?”
“Believe it or not, by sheer indifference. Once he got her going, he pretended he didn’t care whether she liked him or not. That bothered her. Men have always been the other way, threatening to kill themselves if she wouldn’t marry them, and all that sort of stuff.”
“You’ve talked with her?” I asked.