I gave a low whistle.
She said, “Now, I don’t want to be vindictive, but I certainly am not going to have this creature dropping a mantle of respectability over her scarlet shoulders, and then adding insult to injury by becoming the Mrs. Mayor of Santa Carlotta. I think my husband will withdraw from the campaign on the eve of election. If he does, you understand the story isn’t to be published.”
I said, “I understand. John told me all about that. I promised to hold it until I got a release.”
She said, “Of course, you can play up the local angle.”
I said, “That’s fine. That’ll make a nice story. Now, about this Evaline Harris who came up to Oakview, and was subsequently murdered. I understand she was doing some work for you, trying to find out about your husband.”
The woman’s face became a cold mask of suspicion. “John didn’t tell you that,” she said.
“Why, yes,” I said. “That is, not in so many words, but he dropped some remarks which led me to believe that was the case.”
She said, “What did you say your name was? I’ve forgotten.”
“Lam,” I said. “Donald Lam.”
She said, with growing suspicion in her eyes, “John never mentioned to me that he had a friend on the newspaper in Oakview.”