“You mean that she might have killed him?”
“The police might think so.”
“But she was in Shreveport.”
“Not when you telephoned.”
“Well — no, perhaps not.”
“It was late the next afternoon before she sent you the money?”
“Yes.”
We finished our ice cream, sat smoking cigarettes and sipping coffee. Neither of us said much. We were both thinking.
“What do I do next?” she asked.
“Got any money?”