“And that was when you decided that he was going to leave the house and you’d join him later?”
“Yes. I was going to the airport. He’d write me at Reno.”
“And he went out, ran into the officers, had to give them his name and address, and then came back to tell you that the fat was in the fire and that you’d better let him go to Reno with you?”
“Not exactly like that. He told me what had happened. We realized it put us in an awful spot, so we sat down and tried to figure out some way of getting around it. Then Jimmy thought of having Rita come in and finish clipping the canary’s claws where Mrs. Snoops could see her. She could put on my dress and go stand in the window.”
Mason, looking across at Driscoll, said, “A clever idea — only rather tough on Rita.”
Driscoll said, “At that time, Mr. Mason, you will kindly remember, I didn’t know anyone had been murdered. I thought it was simply a question of saving Rosalind from having her name dragged through a lot of legal mud because of my impulsiveness and because I couldn’t help showing my love.”
Mason said disinterestedly, “Save it for the jury, Driscoll. They’ll want to hear it more than I do. Now then, does either of you know what caused that automobile accident?”
Driscoll disdained to say anything, but Rosalind Prescott shook her head.
“I’ll tell you what I’ve found out,” Mason said. “Harry Trader, driving one of his big vans, was making a turn into Fourteenth Street, to deliver some stuff Walter Prescott had ordered him to put in the garage. He swung wide to make the turn. Packard, driving the coupe, came dashing up on the inside without looking where he was going. The first thing he knew, he sensed the van looming ahead of him and on his left. By that time, it was too late. The van was swinging in for the curb. Packard couldn’t change the course of his car, and they struck. Now then, the reason Packard wasn’t looking where he was going was because he’d seen something in a window of one of the houses on his right, which had arrested his attention. It couldn’t have been the Anderson house, because Mrs. Anderson was the only one in that house and she was standing at her dining room window, looking into your solarium. Therefore, it must have been something which he saw in your house, Mrs. Prescott. Now then, have you any idea of what that something could have been?”
“None whatever,” she said promptly.