“There you go, sticking up for her. You know as well as I do, Donald, that she didn’t see him come out of that apartment. She saw him in the corridor. She doesn’t know what apartment he came out of.”
“She does now, doesn’t she?”
Bertha Cool said, “Yes. She thinks she does.”
“Is that all?” I asked.
“No. While Marian was talking with the deputy district attorney, a long-distance telephone call came through. It was police headquarters at Santa Carlotta. Evidently they said they thought the case might have a local angle. The D.A. arranged for a conference.”
I lit a cigarette and Bertha Cool sat behind the desk looking at me. She said, “You know what that means, Donald. They’re getting ready to push our man out in front. Marian will identify him, and then the fat’s in the fire. It’s too late to do a damn thing. We’ve got to move fast.”
“I’ve been moving fast,” I said.
“What have you learned?”
“Nothing much. Any letters or telegrams for me?”
“Yes. There’s a telegram here from someone in San Francisco. It says that no eye doctor or lens supply house in San Francisco had any orders to be sent to Oakview during the period under investigation. I suppose you know what that’s all about.”