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Dorothy Quane didnt say anything for quite some time. Then she said, Im sorry. I was trying to sort out how I feel about it and I think Im really very sorry. I called her nigger, too, didn’t I? That’s not like me, is it? Not like little Dorothy Quane, the raving radical of Bannockburn who marched with Martin at Selma. She blinked back the tears.But, Mr. Mason… somehow … that paper… I was tempted to touch her in some way. Just a small human sense of contact, of caring. But I knew better. Stamos shrank back from the question.You cant possibly think that— The mans smile faded. He shook his head and closed his eyes for a moment. That was some sick shit, man. Sick. Mason turned back to the witness.Do you know, Mr. Durham, that the authorities searched the apartment of this defendant for evidence? The police will hurt him, Frances said. All I did was nod and walk on past to my own car. The one you used to pry open the door? Watsons Garage turned out to be part salvage yard, part repair shop, part gas station. Even this late at night mechanics were working in the bays and the open office door was noisy with rap music and yellow light. How was he? Youre right, I said, but I think that Mr. Vullo was counting on something a bit juicier. Maybe I should go with you. Did you try to keep him from going in? His face was grim.You can thank your lucky stars that I got that letter back. Otherwise you might not have been alive the next morning. I am not accustomed to being pushed around, my dear—and on this matter my reputation is at stake..