She stood perfectly still. Her eyes widened, her mouth fell slightly open.
Edna Cutler whirled around quickly, caught the expression on her face, jumped to her feet with alarm, and cried, “Why, Rob, what’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” Roberta Fenn said after taking a deep breath. “He’s a detective, Edna, that’s all.”
Edna Cutler whirled back to me with indignation and perhaps a trace of fear in her manner. It was the instinctive fight which a frightened animal puts up when it’s driven into a corner.
“How dare you come in here in this way? I could have you arrested.”
“And I could have you arrested for sheltering a person who’s accused of murder.”
The two women exchanged glances. Roberta said, “I think he’s really clever, Edna. I don’t think we’re going to get anywhere with that approach.”
She sat down.
Edna Cutler hesitated for a long moment; then she, too, sat down.
Roberta said, “It was a clever trick all right. Edna and I wondered how anyone had got that address; then we decided that the post office probably took addresses from letters and sold mailing lists.”