Laster tried another approach. “You called on Helen Framley yesterday, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“How did you get her address?”
“A client of the agency gave it to me.”
He started to say something, changed his mind, consulted some notes on his desk, looked up suddenly, and said, “Harry Beegan was her boy friend, wasn’t he?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“He acted like it?”
“I’m afraid I’m not qualified to judge.”
“You were on that train for Los Angeles that leaves here at nine-twenty?”
“That’s right.”