An automobile had come and gone with the ermine-caped woman by the time two officers came inside to interview the witnesses. An Officer Johnson pulled Jimmy to one side of the club. A second one, Detective Wells he had told Claire, took her to a table on the opposite side. She sat gratefully, only then aware that her legs were still quaking.
"Who are you?" Wells asked before she had properly arranged herself on the chair.
Claire"s anger flared at his rudeness. "Claire O"Connor," she snapped.
He wrote her name in his own notebook. "Well, Miss O"Connor, what were you doing here?"
His eyes took all of her in, from the fashionable hat she worried had become crooked in the excitement, to her modern attire. Then his blue eyes met hers and bored in. Did he think she was a common bar p********
