Della Street thought that over for a few seconds, then shook her head and said, “That isn’t right, Chief.”
“What isn’t?”
“That story of hers. No girl on earth would go on working for a man under those conditions without making it a point to learn more about him. In the first place, there’d be legitimate questions she’d have to ask about the work. In the second place, all that attempt to be secretive would simply arouse her curiosity.”
“Then you think she was lying to me?” Mason asked.
“I know darn well she was lying.”
Mason smiled reminiscently. “She did it most convincingly,” he said.
Della’s eyes were twinkling. “The hussy!”
Mason said, “Well, there’s no percentage in sitting around waiting for something to break. Why wouldn’t this be a fine time to communicate with the murderer?”
“Fine — but how are you going about it?”
“You could go down to a hardware store, Della, and buy a sealing machine for cans. Also get a new tin. We’ll scratch a message on the lid, seal it up, make certain there are no fingerprints on it, and plant it on the shelf at the Gentrie residence.”