“I thought you’d like to know what the Lab found out from examination of the wallet and box.”
“What?”
“Nothing. The only prints on the box were Mrs. Priam’s. There were no prints on the wallet at all. Now I’m going home and see if I’m still married. How do you like California?”
Chapter Eleven
Outside her garage, Laurel looked around. Her look was furtive. He hadn’t been in the walnut tree this morning, thank goodness, and there was no sign of him now. Laurel slipped into the garage, blinking as she came out of the sun, and ran to her Austin.
“Morning, Little Beaver.”
“Mac! Damn you.”
Crowe Macgowan came around the big Packard, grinning. “I had a hunch you had a little something under your armpit last night when you told me how late you were going to sleep this morning. Official business, hm?” He was dressed. Mac looked very well when he was dressed, almost as well as when he wasn’t. He even wore a hat, a Swiss yodeler sort of thing with a little feather. “Shove over.”
“I don’t want you along today.”
“Why not?”