“Duff! I’m sorry! I didn’t know!”
He grinned. “Would you mind if I transferred your carpets to the line behind the barn?”
Once there, she asked abruptly, “Duff, has anything happened?”
He shook his head. “Everything’s stopped happening. I saw Higgins a while ago. The FBI checked Harry’s story about platinum. So I guess I made one really sour bunch of mistakes.” He told her the situation.
She dropped the carpet beater. “Only — you don’t believe you did. Do you?”
“No.”
Her look was thoughtful, measuring. “But you aren’t absolutely positive?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been chivvied around so much that I don’t know. The tests I ran seem okay, on review. I thought that hunk of platinum didn’t look exactly like the thing I sandpapered the first time. After all, though, it would be crazy. Us. Harry. A house like this.
Mixed up in anything of that kind.”
“Maybe not too crazy. Look at the facts that have come out of the samples swiped.