“Well, this creature has got him mixed up in a murder case,” Rebecca said with self-righteous approval, “and I’m trying to help Lieutenant Tragg, that’s all. It’s just as distasteful to me as it can be. I consider Junior just as much a part of me as though he were my own boy, but after all, when a young man starts gallivanting around — and now, the evidence of those fingerprints makes it just as plain as the nose on your face. He’s been sneaking over there at night...”
“Stop it!” Mrs. Gentrie commanded indignantly. “You don’t know that he’s been sneaking over there, and as far as that’s concerned, Opal Sunley doesn’t stay over there nights.”
“How do you know she doesn’t?”
“Well, she comes in and works by the day.”
“But she’s over there quite frequently at night.”
“Only when she has to work.”
Rebecca sniffed.
Lieutenant Tragg, who had been keenly observing the trend of the conversation and the facial expressions of the two women, interposed soothingly, “I’m sorry I gave the wrong impression, Mrs. Gentrie. All I’m interested in is finding out just how it happened your son left those fingerprints on the telephone.”
“You’re absolutely certain they’re his?”
“Absolutely.”