“I believe the parrot was a present from her husband. She’s had it for almost two weeks. Did you have some business with Mrs. Wallman?”
“Just wanted to see her and ask her a few questions,” Mason said with his most disarming manner, and as Mrs. Winters looked at the other two as though expecting an introduction, Mason detached himself from the group and took her to one side where he could lower his voice in confidence. Della Street, interpreting his tactics, touched Paul Drake with her elbow, and they walked back to the automobile, got in and sat down.
Mason asked, “How long has Mrs. Wallman been gone, Mrs. Winters?”
“About half or three quarters of an hour, I guess.”
“You don’t know where she went or when she expects to be back, do you?”
“No, I don’t. She came home in an awful hurry and ran across the lawn to the house. I don’t think she was in the house over two or three minutes, then she came tearing out and got her car out of the garage.”
“Didn’t she drive up in her own car?” Mason asked.
“No, she doesn’t usually take her car to work with her. It’s only eight or ten blocks and, when it’s nice, she walks to work.”
“How did she come home?” Mason asked her.
“In a taxi. I don’t know what she intends to do about the parrot. She didn’t say a word to me about giving him food or water. I guess there’s plenty in the cage to last him over night, but I don’t know how long she intends to be gone... I must close those garage doors for her. She never leaves them open when she takes the car out, but today she didn’t stop for anything, just backed the car out of the garage, and went a-kiting down the street.”