I smiled and said, “I see it was a very nice deputy district attorney.”
“Donald, don’t be like that. After all, really those are the facts.”
I nodded.
“The police are going to find out all about Evaline Harris. They’re going to find out who her men friends were, and after they learn about them, I’ll be called on to make some identifications, probably first from photographs.”
“They think it was a boy friend?” I asked with a significant glance at Bertha Cool.
“Yes. They think it was a crime of jealousy. They think that the man who did it had been — well, you know, a lover. You see, the body was lying nude on the bed, and there was no evidence of a struggle. The man must have slipped the cord around her neck and drawn it tight before she knew anything was happening.”
“What are you supposed to do?” I asked. “Stick around here or go back to Oakview?”
“I’m supposed to be available,” she said. “They investigated me. They telephoned the sheriff at Oakview, and the sheriff is an old friend of mine. He said they could trust me anywhere any time.”
“Did they,” I asked, “act as though they thought you might have been the one who did it?”
No. Coming to the police station and all that was in my favour, and I acted just the way you told me to — you know, hicky and countrified.”