“Henri’s coming spoiled our party. It was rather messy with Evalyn crying and all, so I came home.”
“And left Evalyn there — with Margo?”
“Yes. Margo was trying to convince her that there had never been anything serious between her and Henri and that everything was over. I thought they’d get things fixed up if I left them together.”
“Perhaps Margo and Evalyn quarreled after you left. Maybe Evalyn murdered her.”
Shayne watched her keenly, but her eyes were candid when she said hastily, “Oh, no! Evalyn wouldn’t — well, not when she’s—” She paused, and her face was troubled. Then she laughed lightly and said, “Not Evalyn.”
“You started to say something else,” Shayne said. “Not when she’s — what?”
Lucile studied his face for a moment, then asked abruptly, “Are you a detective?”
“I am right now, until I find out who killed Margo.”
“Well, you don’t need to be so grim about it,” she replied irritatedly. She sat up a little straighter and rearranged the pillows. “I suppose it’ll all come out anyway, especially if Henri becomes involved, so it doesn’t matter if I tell you. And it might help you a little. Evalyn takes things sometimes — you know, for her nerves. She gets terribly depressed.”
“What sort of things?”