14There are lots of guns in Washington . . . and lots of women who might want to dump them into the Potomac River, I kept telling myself over and over again. It couldn’t be Dorothy Hallet. I kept telling myself that, knowing very well, however, that it could be and probably was. It seemed such a stupid thing to do. She ought to know it was such an obvious place for the police to be watching. Still, when I got down to it, the whole business of the gun had been far from bright, and at no point convincing at all. It was no more unreasonable for her to choose the wide open and at times quite empty bridge from the Lincoln Memorial to Arlington than it was to stick the gun under the first sofa cushion she came to, as she’d done the night before. And of course it had always been nonsense to think
