Method Three for Murder

XI

Yesterday I drove Mira and Judy to Idlewild, where Mira was to board a plane for Reno. Judy and I had tossed a coin to decide whether the trip would be made in the Heron sedan which Wolfe owns and I drive, or in Judy’s cab, and I had won. On the way back I remarked that I supposed Kearns had agreed to accept service for a Reno divorce because now it wouldn’t leave him free to marry Phoebe Arden.

“No,” Judy said. “Because his wife was a witness in a murder trial and that wouldn’t do.”

A little later I remarked that I supposed she had stopped dreaming about a lion standing on a rock about to spring at her.

“No,” she said. “Only now I’m not sure who it is. It could even be you.”

A little later I remarked that if the state of New York carried out its program for Mrs. Irving, who was in the death house at Sing Sing, I supposed Mira would get back from Reno just in time for a wedding.

“No,” Judy said. “They’ll wait at least a year. Gil Irving will always be a gentleman.”

Three supposes and all wrong. And still men keep on marrying women.