Mason, looking her squarely in the eyes, said, “You.”
She was silent for several thoughtful seconds. Then when she spoke, her voice indicated only an impersonal interest as though they had been discussing some academic problem. “How soon was it after the shots were fired, before they saw this figure come out on the porch?”
“Almost immediately.”
“And they’re certain it was me?”
“That’s what they say.”
“Do you think you can shake their story on cross-examination, Mr. Mason?”
“I don’t know,” Mason said. “I can’t tell whether they’re making it up out of whole cloth. There’s some possibility that they want to put me in a spot. They know, of course, that you have told the officers you can’t remember anything which happened, that your mind is a blank as to the things which took place after noon on the day of the murder. Those two are plenty smart. They’re shrewd opportunists who have gone through life taking advantage of every break which had been offered. Naturally, they’re smart enough to realize that if you can’t remember anything about what happened on that day, you can’t deny anything.”
She thought for a moment and then said, “That makes it rather tough, doesn’t it?” Mason nodded.
“On me,” she said. He nodded again.
“I guess,” she told him, “you’re going to have to rely on your powers of cross-examination, Mr. Mason... What were they doing out there sitting in a parked car where they could see the door of Cullens’ house?”