“All this while you made no attempt to contact police?” Mr. Deming questioned severely.
“I was wondering what to do when I saw a picture of Mr. Parker in the paper.”
“And then you dropped an unsigned letter in my mailbox?” Penny probed.
Mrs. Botts knew that the net was closing tightly about her. Although she tried to slant her story in such a way that she would not appear too much at fault, the facts remained bald and ugly.
“Yes, I left a note at your house,” she acknowledged reluctantly. “Later I telephoned and made an appointment to meet you at the cemetery.”
“Why didn’t you go through with it?” asked Penny. “Were you afraid?”
“I began to realize I might be held for something I never intended to do. Folks started to watch this house. I tried to keep my roomer out of sight, but he’d do such queer things.”
“Such as stroll in the garden at night,” supplied Penny.
“Yes, I felt sorry for the poor man. He had such dreadful headaches and was so bewildered.”
“Evidently you weren’t sorry enough to tell him who he was,” reprimanded Mr. Deming. “Really Mrs. Botts, I can’t understand why you acted as you did.”