“You don’t think she had anything to do with Noonan’s killing?”
I wanted a cigarette, but cigarettes were too well known as first aids to the nervous for me to take a chance on one just then.
McGraw was trying to look through my eyes. I let him look, having all sorts of confidence in my belief that, like a lot of people, I looked most honest when I was lying. Presently he gave up the eye-study and asked:
“Why not?”
That was weak enough. I said, “All right, why not?” indifferently, offered him a cigarette, and took one myself. Then I added: “My guess is that Whisper did it.”
“Was he there?” For once McGraw cheated his nose, snapping the words off his teeth.
“Was he where?”
“At Brand’s?”
“No,” I said, wrinkling my forehead. “Why should he be—if he was off killing Noonan?”
“Damn Noonan!” the acting chief exclaimed irritably. “What do you keep dragging him in for?”
I tried to look at him as if I thought him crazy.
He said:
“Dinah Brand was murdered last night.”
I said: “Yeah?”
“Now will you answer my questions?”