"I didn't see anything about it in the papers. I'm sure it wasn't on any of the newscasts."
"Of course, it wasn't. The police didn't even question me. I called the police and they came—two prowl-car men. Then they told Les and me to wait. We waited, and after a while this Brent Taber came in. He told us to go home and keep our mouths shut. Later, we were called downtown and Taber talked to us."
"He told you to go home," Rhoda said sarcastically. "You also said the man was killed in your room. Just where is your home, Mr. Corson?"
"I came here, Rhoda. I spent that night here."
"With a possible murder charge hanging over your head, you came here and didn't say a word!"
Frank sprang up from the couch and turned, scowling. "Goddamn it! Don't you believe me? Do you think I'm lying?"
"I don't know what to believe. I just feel—betrayed. But something else is more important."
"What?"
"You acted like a child. Just because some man appeared out of nowhere, you said Yes, sir and No, sir and Sorry, sir and walked away. Frank! I'm ashamed of you!"
In quick anger, his hand came back as though to slap her. But he dropped it to his side and strode across the room and picked up his jacket.