"You do?" Boyd said. "For what time?"
"For time when murder happened," Brubitsch said. "I was some place else."
"Well, then," Malone said, "how do you know when the murders were done? They were kept out of the newspapers." That, he reflected, was quite true, since the murders had never happened. But he watched Brubitsch with a wary eye.
"I know nothing about time," Brubitsch said, jerking at his collar. "I don't know when they happened."
"Then how can you have an alibi?" Boyd snapped.
"Because I didn't do them!" Brubitsch said tearfully. "If I didn't, then I must have alibi!"
"You'd be surprised," Malone said. "Now, about these murders—"
"Was no murder, not by me," Brubitsch said firmly. "Was never any killing of anybody, not even by accident."
"But your two friends say—" Boyd began.
"My two friends are not my friends," Brubitsch said firmly. "If they tell you about murder and say it was me, they are no friends. I did not murder anybody. I have alibi. I did not even murder anybody a little bit. They are no friends. This is terrible."