“I want something.”

“What?”

“Information.”

“That all?”

“Yes.”

She pouted. “I don’t believe I ever knew a man exactly!ike you. Tell me, are the police looking for me?”

“What do you think?”

“Why don’t they get busy and find the real murderer?”

“They’re looking for clues.”

“Well, what am I going to do? Shake clues out of my sleeves, pull some out of the tops of my stockings, put ’em on a silver platter, and say, ‘Here, Mr. Copper.’ ”