“That’s between you and the police. If you don’t tell what you know, it might put you in a serious position. You were the last one to see Harry Beegan alive.”
“I was not. I broke up with him right after the fight.”
“You ran away with him.”
“I ran down to the alley. He came along after a few minutes. He grabbed my arm, and we ran almost to the end of the alley. There was a high board fence there. He picked me up and put me up to where I could reach the top. After I got up, I gave him a hand and he made it.”
“And then?”
“We waited for a while until the cops had gone by. We could hear them talking, see their lights flashing, and hear them asking questions. A lot of people came along behind the cops. We made a clean getaway.”
“Then what?”
“Then,” she said, “I told him that he was a double-crosser, and that I was finished. He knew I meant it, too.”
“And beat up on you?”
“Nothing like that. He begged and pleaded, promised he’d never interfere again, told me that he couldn’t help but be jealous because he loved me so much, but that he’d learned his lesson now and that he realized he couldn’t interfere in my life.”