Mason said, “Well, I’ll make a bargain with you. If you’ll let me have a picture of your sister, we’ll call it square.”
“Is there any particular one you’d like?” she asked.
“How about the one where she’s getting into the automobile?” Mason asked. “The one where she has her hand on the door. That’s a particularly good picture.”
“Yes, I think I have an extra print of that.”
She once more entered the bedroom. “That the girl all right?” Drake asked.
“That’s the girl,” Mason said.
Drake said, “The chap she married is a crook. He’s been in two or three scrapes. They had a murder charge against him in Los Angeles two or three months ago. Had a dead open-and-shut case, but he squirmed loose. I’d recognize that face anywhere. I saw him—”
Marian Whiting came back with the photograph. “I found it. It’s an extra print,” she said. “It really belongs to Sis, but I can have another one made for her.”
Mason said, “I’ll be glad to pay—”
“No, no,” Marian Whiting said hastily. “That wasn’t what I was getting at.”