The sheriff’s face showed his interest. “How do you account for that?” he asked.
“I don’t,” Mason said. “Of course, the obvious way to account for it is that the parrot was present when someone named Helen threatened someone with a gun, and then, after being told to drop the gun, fired a shot, which took effect. However, the shooting took place, not in Helen Monteith’s bungalow, but in a mountain cabin some miles away, while, apparently, the parrot on Helen Monteith’s porch wasn’t present at the shooting.”
“Just what are you getting at?” Sheriff Barnes inquired.
“I’m trying to co-operate with you,” Mason told him.
“Well, we don’t want your co-operation,” Sprague told him. “It’s quite evident to me that you’ve gathered a great deal of information from questioning Helen Monteith. Now, I’m going to give you twenty-four hours to produce her. In the event you fail to do so, I’m going to have you brought before the Grand Jury at San Molinas.”
“Better make it twelve hours,” Sergeant Holcomb suggested.
Sprague hesitated a moment, then looked at his watch and said, “You have her in San Molinas for questioning before the Grand Jury by noon tomorrow. Otherwise, you’ll take the consequences.”
He nodded to Sergeant Holcomb, and they started for the door. Mason caught Sheriff Barnes’ eye and said, “Going, Sheriff, or do you want to stay?”
Sheriff Barnes dropped easily into the overstuffed leather chair and said, “Don’t go just yet, Ray.”
“We’re not getting anywhere here,” Sprague objected.