“No.”
“So you went over there?” Mason inquired. “And then what?”
“When I went to the upstairs bedroom to change into the dress Rossy had been wearing, I found the door to Walter’s bedroom slightly ajar. I didn’t think anything of it at the moment, left my dress there, put on Rossy’s,went down to the solarium, caught the canary, and did my stuff where Mrs. Snoops could get an eyeful. Then I went back upstairs to change my dress again. I went into the bathroom to wash my hands, and got a shock. There were bloodstains on the wash bowl — not stains of pure blood, but places where drops of bloody water had dried on the porcelain, leaving little pinkish stains, and in some places the drops hadn’t dried.
“So I pushed open the door, looked in Walter’s bedroom, and there was Walter, lying on his bed, on his back, his arms outstretched, his vest unbuttoned, and blood flowing from bullet wounds. I stood there on the threshold and screamed. Then, after a moment, I cried out, ‘Walter, what’s the matter?’ and ran across to the bed, knelt by his side and put my hands on his shoulders.
“I knew right away that he was dead.”
She paused, breathing heavily through dilated nostrils. Her lips quivered.
“Go ahead,” Mason told her. “Give me the rest of it.”
“Honestly, Mr. Mason, I don’t know what made me do the thing I did next. At first I was so shocked and horrified I could hardly breathe. And then, all of a sudden, I seemed to adjust myself in relation to what it would mean to me and to Rossy—”
“Never mind the psychology,” Mason said. “What did you do? ”
“I thought about that letter Jimmy had written. I knew that Walter had planned to file suit against Jimmy and I knew what it would mean to Rossy if they should search the body, find that letter and—”