“When you heard the shot,” I went on when she had quieted down a bit, “you were walking north on Jones, between Bush and Pine? You could see the corner of Pine and Jones?”
“Yes—clearly.”
“See anybody?”
“No—not until I reached the corner and looked down Pine Street. Then I saw a policeman bending over Bernie, and two men walking toward them.”
“Where were the two men?”
“On Pine Street east of Jones. They didn’t have hats on—as if they had come out of a house when they heard the shot.”
“Any automobiles in sight either before or after you heard the shot?”
“I didn’t see or hear any.”
“I have some more questions, Mrs. Gilmore,” I said; “but I’m in a hurry now. Please don’t go out until you hear from me again.”
“I won’t,” she promised; “but—”
I didn’t have any answers for anybody’s questions, so I ducked my head and left the library.
Near the street door Lina Best appeared out of a shadow, her eyes bright and inquisitive.
“Stick around,” I said without any meaning at all, stepped around her, and went on out into the street.