“Well... Oh, say from fifteen minutes to half an hour. We were at the bar when Cullens came in, and we were eating dinner when Golding and his wife went out. As I remember it, we had finished dinner when they returned.”
“All right,” Mason said, “that’s all. I just wanted to check up.”
“You won’t make my statement public in any way, Mr. Mason?”
“Not unless I have to,” Mason told him, “and I don’t think I’ll have to. I’m just checking up, that’s all. Come on, Paul.”
They walked out of the bank, leaving Marquad standing at the counter, his eyes watching them with ill-concealed anxiety. Mason turned to Drake and said, “Check up on Bill Golding’s car, Paul. There was a blue sedan parked at the curb just before Mrs. Breel stepped out into the street. You know, there’s just a chance Bill Golding might be driving a blue sedan. I believe Diggers said the left rear fender was damaged.”
Drake said, “That should be easy, Perry. I’ll get at it right away. Want me to telephone the office?”
“Not now,” Mason said. “It’ll keep until you get back.”
“What’s next on the program?”
“Lone Bedford,” Mason said.
“You don’t want to wait until Pete Chennery shows up?”