“Where did you learn that about Bruce Brainard?” demanded Mitchell.
Vera met the detective’s accusing gaze squarely. “He told me so himself.”
“What?” Mitchell leaned across the table in his eagerness. “Did Brainard tell you that he was ambidextrous on Monday night?”
“No.”
“Then you had known him before Monday night?”
“I had.”
Mitchell sat back in his chair and scowled at Vera.
“Why did you not mention in your testimony at the inquest on Tuesday that you had known Bruce Brainard formerly?” His manner was stern. “You gave us to understand that you had not met Brainard until sent for to attend him after dinner on Monday night.”
“I was not asked the direct question as to whether we had ever met before,” replied Vera. “I did not volunteer the information because—”
“Because it would have led to an investigation of your acquaintance with him,” with insolent meaning, and Vera, her hot blood dancing in her veins, stepped nearer the detective, her eyes blazing with pent-up wrath.