“No, I’m not.” She sounded grim. “There was that business of accusing me of stealing those designs. They didn’t have to pick me for that, but you notice they did. Now all of a sudden that’s cleared up, I’m out of that, and what happens? Wayne gets arrested for murder. Next thing—”
“I thought you didn’t know what they took him for.”
“I don’t. But you’ll see. He was with me, wasn’t he?” She slid off the desk and was erect. “I think— I’m pretty sure— I’m going to see Dorothy Keyes.”
“She’s busy with a caller.”
“I know it, but he may be gone.”
“A man named Donaldson, and I’m wondering about him. I have a hunch Miss Keyes is starting a little investigation on her own. Do you happen to know if this Donaldson is a detective?”
“I know he isn’t. He’s a lawyer and a friend of Mr. Keyes. I’ve seen him here several times. Do you—”
What interrupted her was a man coming in the door and heading for us.
It was a man I had known for years. “We’re busy,” I told him brusquely. “Come back tomorrow.”
I should have had sense enough to give up kidding Sergeant Purley Stebbins of the Homicide Squad long ago, since it always glanced off and rolled away. When he got sore, as he often did, it wasn’t at the kidding but at what he considered my interference with the performance of his duty.