Conway realized he had been stupid not to mention it; he had been so wrapped up in his original plan that he had failed to take advantage of an accident which would have served to divert suspicion even further from himself. But it was too late now to be of use; since he had not spoken of it before, it was necessary to minimize its importance.
“To tell you the truth,” he said, “it was so trivial I’d forgotten about it. And I’m sure nobody saw it — she only took the dollar out of her bag, and I happened to see the rest of the money in the wallet.”
“Can’t be sure,” Bauer said.
“I suppose it’s possible that someone might have walked past the booth at just the right second, looked down and happened to see the wallet in her purse,” Conway went on. “But it never even occurred to me until now.”
“Um-m,” said the detective. “Well, it don’t get us anyplace much, just saying that somebody might of seen the dough. Still—” He tried another mouthful of food and worked at it for some time before he looked again at Conway. “Say, this potroast is terrible tonight. I guess neither of us is very hungry, eh? What say we blow?”
“Fine with me.”
“You know, sometimes I don’t mind being on a diet a bit,” Betty said.
When they reached the car, Bauer stopped suddenly. “I forgot to call and check in,” he said. “Wait here in the car. Won’t be a minute.”
Conway was conscious of Betty’s sidelong glance as they sat in the car, but she said nothing. He knew, of course, that Bauer was talking to the waitress, checking the details of his story. He could think of nothing that would not dovetail; the waitress could have heard little of the preliminary conversation, he was sure.
He lit a cigarette and pondered on Bauer’s technique. If this man is typical of the detective force, he reflected, it’s a wonder anyone’s in jail. When Bauer emerged from the rear entrance a few moments later, Conway realized that he was regarding him with genuine fondness.