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get into something warm." She knew that she must before her teeth chattered out loud. It wasn't only from the wet bathing suit.
    She heard Kew say as she went toward the bedroom, "And I'll have to run along. I'll take that drink another time." He was determined now, making his gracious good-byes. She could hear Thusby as the outer door closed. "Now about this murder, Mr. Satterlee," and she went swiftly into the bathroom beyond to rough herself warm with a towel. She did it quickly; the voices were silenced in this room, and she was trembling with anxiety. Con's prints were on that gun. The police couldn't know it yet they'd come already to him. For him? She dressed rapidly, pullover beige sweater, brown wool slacks. But she took time to open Con's drawer and wad handkerchiefs over and around the shells.
    Con was telling his story, "… and I didn't even know her name until I read it in the paper this morning. I simply offered to give her a lift and when she changed her mind about going to this Seafood place I brought her back to town."
    He wasn't telling all of it. Griselda emerged to sit quietly beside him, between him and Vinnie.
    "Mighty funny," Captain Thusby was saying.
    "Yes, it was," Con agreed. "She didn't give any reason for it. Of course she'd been drinking."
    Thusby asked, "Did she have a gun then, Mr. Satterlee?"
    Now it was coming. Griselda waited, hands unclenched but tight as guitar strings.
    "That's strange. Why do you ask?"
    Thusby said, "On account of her being killed by her own gun. Or at least one she'd brought with her from Hollywood. And so far as anyone knows she hadn't been back to the apartment after you let her out. Where'd you say you let her out?"
    Griselda wanted to warn Con to be careful. She was being absurd; he was always aware. You couldn't trap Con.
    He said now, "I didn't say, Cap'n. But I can tell you. It was on Ocean by that park."
    "Bixby Park," Vinnie supplied and flushed at the unexpected sound of his own voice. It was a tenor toot compared to his father's foggy horn. He put another peanut between his teeth.
    "East or west end? Junipero or Cherry?"
    Con figured it out. "The Belmont side. That'd be east."
    Thusby nodded. "Junipero."
    Vinnie wasn't as startled this time. "She was found on the Cherry side, Pa."
    "I know it," Thusby said placidly. He was as garrulous as the son wasn't. "This kid, Tip Thenker, has been squirting sodas up a ways on Cherry at a drug store. He goes to college." That evidently impressed Thusby. "He and a friend were on their way home, going to cut across the park, when they saw her foot there in the shadow under one of those fat palm trees. It sure scared those kids." He chortled and then his eyes fixed. "They ought to been scared. It's a wonder they weren't mowed down too. Whoever killed her couldn't have been far away. The blood was still running."
    Griselda asked, "What time was this, Captain Thusby?"
    "About one-thirty, ma'am. One-thirty-three when they called us. And they didn't waste no time doing it." He chortled again.
    Con was safe. Even with his fingerprints he was safe. He'd been home by midnight. But she didn't know how long the blood would run. And he'd gone out again; where, he didn't say. She moved closer to him. "How did you happen to come to talk to my husband about it?" She didn't want them to get back to the gun.
    He was very polite. "Trying to trace what she was doing last night, ma'am. She left the Bamboo Bar with him. Mr. Alexander Smithery told us that."
    "Chang," Con informed her, and explained, "I call him Chang."
    Thusby came in again. "Where was that place you stopped?"
    "I couldn't tell you the name," Con repeated. "On the way to Seal Beach. Ed's or Ray's or Andy's—something like that."
    Griselda inserted, "He was at home by midnight." She wouldn't even think of his being called out later.
    Both of the Thusbys took that in silence, and the father asked again, "Now about that gun?"
    "She had one, yes," Con admitted. Griselda