The Second Confesion

“We'll take the same route. What does it look like?” Having her along wasn't part of my plan. “You're an angel,” I told her. “You're a little cabbage. In that dress you remind me of a girl I knew in the fifth grade. I'm not going to let you ruin it scrambling around hunting that damn card case. Leave me but don't forget me. If and when I find it I'll let you know.” “Not a chance.” She was smiling with a corner of her mouth up. “I've always wanted to help a detective find something, especially you. Come on!” She was either on to me or she wasn't, but in any case it was plain that she had decided to stay with me. I might as well pretend that nothing would please me better, so I did.

“What does it look like?” she asked as we circled the house and started to cross the lawn toward the border.

Since the card case was at that moment in my breast pocket, the simplest way would have been to show it to her, but under the circumstances I preferred to describe it. I told her it was pigskin, darkened by age, and four inches by six.

It wasn't to be seen on the lawn. We argued about where we had gone through the shrubbery, and I let her win. It wasn't there either, and a twig whipped my wounded cheek as I searched beneath the branches. After we had passed through the gate into the field we had to go slower because the grass was tall enough to hide a small object like a card case. Naturally I felt foolish, kicking around three or four blocks away from where I wanted to be, but I had told my story and was stuck with it.