“Did you know what the shakedown was?”
“No, not then. I still don’t know.”
“Go on,” Mason told her.
“I didn’t want to do it. I’d never had a police record. I knew him well enough to know he was keeping himself in the background and pushing me out in front.”
“You can skip that,” Mason said. “Hell, we don’t need a blueprint. You did it. Then what?”
“Of course, I did it!” she blazed. “And why not? And don’t blame Louie too much either. Leeds is lousy with the dough. He can’t take it with him. It’s all right to talk about respectability if you’ve been educated so you can get by and be respectable, but when you have nothing back of you, you have to take things as they come.
“That’s the way John found life, and that’s the way I found it. I suppose some women think I’m cheap and flashy, but... well, John thought I was swell, and I thought he was swell... Anyhow, I was to go to his apartment at ten-thirty, and in the morning we were to get married, and be on our way. And... and I went up there about ten-twenty. I had a key. I walked on in, calling to John. I didn’t get any answer. I looked around the place. Things had been turned topsy-turvy. I was frightened and I ran into the bathroom. John was in there on the floor with the handle of a carving knife st-st-sticking... sticking...” She broke into tears, shook her head, and dropped down into a chair. “I c-c-can’t do it,” she said. “I c-c-can’t.”
“Take it easy, Marcia,” Mason told her. “I know how you feel, but you’re loaded with dynamite. If you found John had been murdered and didn’t notify the police, you’re in a fix, and, now that you’ve told us, if we don’t notify the police, we’re in a fix. You’re not our client. Alden Leeds is our client. This isn’t a privileged communication. We’re going off the deep end for you.”
Marcia Whittaker took a quivering breath, and said, “I go nuts every time I think of it... I knew what they were searching for. They didn’t find it.”
“How do you know they didn’t find it?” Mason asked.