Mason scowled. “All right,” he said, lashing out at her with sudden belligerency. “Let’s quite playing ring-around-the-rosy. What’s your alibi for Monday night?”
She smiled at him sweetly. “Tuesday from noon on, Mr. Mason,” she said.
“You heard my question. Monday night.”
“You heard my answer,” she replied smilingly. “From noon Tuesday, Mr. Mason.”
“I hope it’s a good one.”
“It is.”
“Just by way of satisfying my curiosity,” he asked her, “what were you doing Monday night?”
“What I was doing Monday night doesn’t have anything to do with the case. You know it doesn’t. The newspaper says you, yourself, talked with Tidings Tuesday morning around eleven o’clock… And I see you’re representing that Gailord girl… I wish you luck with her.”
“Are you,” Mason asked, “trying to change the subject?”
“No, of course not.”