"You don't know nothin' of the kind," Barker's voice came in a half-snarl. "I don't give a damn how smart you fly-cops are—you can't prove nothin' on me."
"That so?"
"Yes—that's so. Just because I worked for Warren ain't no reason why you should arrest me for his murder. Suppose I had wanted to kill him—and I didn't—didn't have no reason at all. But suppose I had wanted too—you know bloody well that I didn't do it."
"Why do we know that?"
"Because you know he was killed by a woman!"
"Aa-a-ah! That's what you think, eh?"
"I know a woman killed him."
"You were present?"
"Bah! Trying to trap me—are you? Well, I ain't going to be trapped. I don't know nothin' about it. Like I said from the first."
"But you do know something about it," insisted Carroll icily. "And I'd advise you to come clean with us."