It took her mind off her own troubles for a minute. “That’s ridiculous! Why would they? He’s so gracious!”
“Idea seemed to be he’d stolen a diamond-crusted compact from you, Roffis caught him with the goods.”
“But I gave it to Auguste. It was a present.”
“That’s what he said. They didn’t believe him. It’s quite a bauble to get for pourboire.”
“Yes, it’s valuable. I hope he can sell it for something. I told him so. Once,” she gazed sadly out at the Times Square turmoil, “it had also a sentimental value for me. But no more — no more.” She sighed. “Since I did not wish to use it, I couldn’t bear to see it around. I gave it to Auguste gladly.”
“Fixes Auguste on that score. They’ll still hold him for murder.”
“They mustn’t, they mustn’t. I’m positive he didn’t do it, absolutely positive.” She accepted the peasant kerchief I’d bought at the drugstore counter, began to fold it to arrange over her head. It wouldn’t be as effective a disguise as that theatrical wig, but it made her less conspicuous.
“Being positive doesn’t salt any celery. Mrs. Lanerd was positive you stabbed Roffis.”
“She would be. She hates me for taking Dow away from her.” Tildy held her head very high; I think she was crying but she wasn’t noisy about it. “She doesn’t need to worry. All that is — over.”
“Jeff MacGregory was reasonably positive, too, about your having killed your bodyguard. Because of something you said at the studio tonight, to the effect you had to do it, you couldn’t give him up. He thought you were referring to Roffis.”