I sat down and shook my head at her. “Now listen,” I said pleasantly. “Don’t lie to me. We’re comrades. Side by side we have sought the chitlin in its lair. The wild boar chitlin. That picture is my property and I want it. Let’s say it fluttered into your bag. Look in your bag.”
“It isn’t there.” With a new note of spunk in her voice, and a new touch of color on her cheeks, she was more of a person. Her bag was beside her on the chair, and her left hand was clutching it.
“Then I’ll look in your bag.” I started for her.
“No!” she said. “It isn’t there!” She put a palm to her stomach. “It’s here.”
I stopped short, thinking for a second she had swallowed it. Then I returned to my chair and told her, “Okay. You will now return it. You have three alternatives. Either dig it out yourself, or I will, or I’ll call in Maryella and hold you while she does. The first is the most ladylike. I’ll turn my back.”
“Please.” She kept her palm against her stomach. “Please! It’s my picture!”
“It’s a picture of you, but it’s not your picture.”
“Miss Huddleston gave it to you.”
I saw no point in denying the obvious. “Say she did.”
“And she told you... she... she thinks I sent those awful letters! I know she does!”