“She was wearing the clothes that you had last seen her in?”
“She was wearing the dress, but she had taken off the coat, I believe.”
“Ah-h!” sighed the courtroom under its breath.
“What kind of a coat, Mrs. Ives?”
“A little cream-coloured flannel coat.” Not by the flicker of an eyelash did Mrs. Ives admit the sinister significance of that sigh.
“Did she say anything further?”
“Yes. I asked her whether she had enjoyed the movie, and she said that she had not gone to Rosemont, as she had met Stephen Bellamy in his car on her way to the Conroys’ and he had given her a lift. He told her that the picture in Rosemont was an old one that they had both seen, and suggested that they drive over by the River Road and see what was running in Lakedale. When they got there they discovered that they had seen that film, too, so they drove around a little longer and then came home.”
“That was all that she said?”
“She wished me sweet dreams, I believe, and kissed me good-night.”
Under the gentle directness of her gaze, the prosecutor’s face hardened. “Where was the fruit that you speak of usually kept, Mrs. Ives?”