I said, “That’s what I was afraid of. Insist that this woman is Amelia Lintig. Perhaps we can get by with it and get a certificate of death.”
Bertha said, “There you go again, Donald, thinking you have to point out every play for me. For God’s sake, don’t you give me credit for—”
The nurse came back down the corridor. A doctor was with her. The doctor said gravely, “I’m sorry, Mr. Lam, but orders are that as soon as you’re able to leave here, you’re to go to the district attorney’s office.”
“You mean that I’m under arrest?”
“It amounts to that.”
“For what?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Those are orders. I think that you’ve been under a great strain lately. You are wiry and strong. Organically you’re as sound as a nut, but your nerves can’t stand the terrific whipping you’ve been giving them lately. I dislike to have you subjected to any undue strain, but those are orders. A detective is on the way to pick you up.”
I said, “Can Mrs. Cool go along? I’d like to have her corroborate parts of my story.”
“I don’t think so,” the doctor said. “You’ll have to ask the detective about that.”
He went away. The nurse kept sticking around. After a while a detective came in and said, “Come on, Lam. We’re going to run over to the district attorney’s office.”