“You’re suggesting it was one of the visitors?”
“No, no. It isn’t the only day visitors visit. I’m suggesting life is real, life is earnest—and rather diabolical sometimes.”
“I’ll call for the reports,” Lomas said, and did so. “Good Gad! Reams! Barton’s put in some heavy work.”
“I thought he would,” said Reggie, and went to read over Lomas’s shoulder.
At the end Lomas lay back and looked up at him. “Well? Barton’s put his money on this young nurse, Edith Baker.”
“Yes. That’s the matron’s tip. I saw the matron. One of the world’s organizers, Lomas. A place for everything and everything in its place. And if you don’t fit, God help you. Edith Baker didn’t fit. Edith Baker has emotions. Therefore she does murders. Q.E.D.”
“Well, the matron ought to know the girl.”
“She ought,” Reggie agreed. “And our case is, gentlemen, that the matron who ought to know girls says Edith Baker isn’t a nice young person. Lomas dear, why do policemen always believe what they’re told? What the matron don’t like isn’t evidence.”
“There is some evidence. The girl had one of these hysterical affections for the dead woman, passionately devoted and passionately jealous and so forth. The girl had access to the hospital instruments. All her time in the afternoon can’t be accounted for, and she was the first to know of the murder.”
“It’s not good enough, Lomas. Why did she give the alarm?”