as if she liked the shape of it in her mouth.
“You were wrong.”
“Knowing my husband, I find that hard to believe.”
“Knowing myself, I’m sure of it,” I insisted. “There’s no uncertainty about it between your husband and me, Mrs. Gungen. It is understood that my job is to find who stole and killed—nothing else.”
“Really?” It was a polite ending of an argument of which she had grown tired.
“You’re tying my hands,” I complained, standing up, pretending I wasn’t watching her carefully. “I can’t do anything now but grab this Rose Rubury and the two men and see what I can squeeze out of them. You said the girl would be back in half an hour?”
She looked at me steadily with her round brown eyes.