“Ever see that?”
She nodded her blond head.
“Yep! That’s Herb’s, or its twin.”
Dean pocketed the gun again, and we stood up.
“Where do I stand now?” she asked. “You’re not going to lock me up as a witness or anything, are you?”
“Not just now.” Dean assured her. “Stick around where we can find you if we want you, and you won’t be bothered. Got any idea which direction Whitacre’d be likely to go in?”
“No.”
“We’d like to give the place the once-over. Mind?”
“Go ahead,” she invited. “Take it apart if you want to. I’m coming all the way with you people.”
We very nearly did take the place apart, but we found not a thing of value. Whitacre, when he had burned the things that might have given him away, had made a clean job of it.
“Did he ever have any pictures taken by a professional photographer?” I asked just before we left.
“Not that I know of.”
“Will you let us know if you hear anything or remember anything else that might help?”
“Sure,” she said heartily; “sure.”