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Tracy walked into a living room filled with beautiful, burnished antique furniture. Joseph Romano lived well. On my mother's money,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], Tracy thought bitterly.
"I was just about to mix myself a drink. What would you like?"
"Nothing."
He looked at her curiously.. "What was it you wanted to see me about, Miss---?"
"Tracy Whitney. I'm Doris Whitney's daughter."
He stared at her blankly for an instant,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], and then a look of recognition flashed across his face. "Oh,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], yes. I heard about your mother. Too bad."
Too bad,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]! He had caused the death of her mother,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych],[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], and his only comment was: "Too bad."
"Mr. Romano,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], the district attorney believes that my mother was guilty of fraud. You know that's not true. I want you to help me clear her name."
He shrugged. "I never talk business during Mardi Gras. It's against my religion." Romano walked over to the bar and began mixing two drinks. "I think you'll feel better after you've had a drink."
He was leaving her no choice. Tracy opened her purse and pulled out the revolver. She pointed it at him. "I'll tell you what will make me feel better,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], Mr. Romano. Having you confess to exactly what you did to my mother."