It was plain that Bauer was suspicious of something; it was equally clear that he was not quite sure of what. “Then you two are pretty good friends, eh?”
“No, Sergeant — I—” Conway began.
“I hope we will be,” Betty said. “But I’d never laid eyes on him until I just walked in the door.” Bauer eyed Conway, uncertain of what to believe. “And now, Sergeant, tell me what progress you’ve made on the case.” She’s been seeing too many movies, Conway thought.
The detective glared at her. “No comment,” he said.
“I don’t think I care for your attitude,” Betty said coldly. “I happen to be the second-next-of-kin. You might remember that you are a servant of the people.”
“I’m nobody’s servant,” the detective said truculently. “And let me tell you something else—”
Conway stepped between them, as though to separate two people who were about to come to blows. This is one way to get rid of Bauer, he thought, the worst possible way. “Please,” he said, “there’s no point in being unpleasant. The sergeant has nothing to tell you. Betty, because he’s already told the newspapers everything he knows — everything, that is, which he thinks it advisable, at this time, to make public.” Out of the corner of his eye, Conway could see Bauer beginning to soften. “He’s been very frank with me, but I know there are a lot of things he hasn’t told me, simply because he doesn’t think it good policy to discuss them with anyone. If you’ll read the morning papers there, you’ll know as much as I do, which is just about all anyone does — with the exception of the sergeant.”
“I read the papers coming in from the airport,” she said. “Why do they say it’s a sex maniac?”
She’s going to do it, Conway thought. I don’t know why or when or how, but she’s going to do it. She’s going to hang me.
Bauer answered her without hesitation. “Who else would it be?” he asked.