“How long would you say it was after you telephoned that the officers came?”
“I don’t think it could have been over five minutes. It might have been seven or eight minutes, but I think it was around five.”
“And what did they do?”
“They looked the coupe over and took down the license numbers, and then this young man was just coming out of the house, and they took his name and address and looked at his driver’s license, and then dismissed him, and then they got in their car and drove away without once coming over here. I can’t understand it. I was the person that had called them. They didn’t ask me what I knew about it.”
“But, of course,” Mason said, “you didn’t see the accident.”
“Well,” she said, “I saw plenty of it. And, again, how did they know that? I might have seen the whole thing for all they knew. I might have been standing right there in the window.”
“Yes,” Mason said thoughtfully, “that’s so. Whom have you told about this?”
“No one,” she said, “except Mrs. Weyman.”
“Mrs. Weyman?”
She nodded and said, “Yes, that’s the next door neighbor over on Fourteenth Street. They’ve been there for six months now. Our back doors are just a few steps from each other. I told her about it right after the accident, within less than an hour. She’s a wonderfully fine woman. It’s certainly too bad about her husband.”