“That’s okay with me.”
The cab swung down the lighted expanse of Reno’s main gambling street, jolted across the tracks, and headed out past the tree-lined residential district. Bertha said, “So you’re going to go see Helen Framley and try to get the information out of her?”
“I’m going to leave her out of it. All I’m doing is making certain that the other person leaves her out of it.”
“I don’t get you.”
“When I left you in Las Vegas, I was very careful to leave under such circumstances that you’d make a loud squawk. I wanted you to tell everyone who had any connection with the case just what a heel I’d turned out to be, that I’d run away with Helen Framley. That information wouldn’t have meant much except to one person.”
“Who?”
“The murderer.”
“Fiddlesticks. I don’t think there’s anything to that. You’re in love with that girl, Donald Lam, and because you are, you’re worrying about her. But in case you’re right, I’m going to be in on the finish.”
I said, “You can wait in the cab if you want to.”
“But no one could possibly get out there for a long while.”