“No... thank you.”
“You, Golding?”
“No.”
Mason took a cigarette and said, “Well, I’ll have one. You’re driving a new car, aren’t you, Golding?”
“What’s that got to do with it?”
“Oh, nothing much,” Mason said, lighting his cigarette. He shook out the match, exhaled the first deep drag of smoke, and said, “I Understand you bought it the day after Cullens was murdered.”
“So what?”
“I was interested in the car you traded in,” Mason said. “It was in pretty good shape. You’d had it less than six months.”
“My God!” the woman exploded. “Do we have to account to a lawyer every time we want to trade in a car?”
Without looking at her, Mason went on evenly, “I became interested in that trade-in, Golding. I had my detectives find out about that car. It was a blue sedan with a crumpled left rear fender. I don’t know whether you know it, but Diggers says that just before Mrs. Breel stepped out from the sidewalk, a car which had been parked at the curb pulled out right ahead of him and swung sharply to the left. It was a blue sedan with a crumpled left rear fender.”