this development?”
“I haven’t dared tell him. I left him sleeping, poor dear. Well.” She squared her shoulders and turned to Cleat. “You brought me here to see him, didn’t you? I might as well get it over with.”
“We looked at it like this,” Cleat said. “If him and Miner were in cahoots, you might have seen him with Miner some time, or maybe loitering around casing the joint. He certainly had a line on your routine, mail deliveries and such. I realize it’s a painful ordeal, ma’am.”
“Not at all. I’ve frequently handled cadavers.”
Cleat’s eyebrows jumped.
I said: “Mrs. Johnson was a nurse. But wouldn’t Mrs. Miner be more likely—?”
“I got her waiting outside. Now, Mrs. Johnson, if you don’t mind.”
She and Ann approached the table. Cleat switched on a hanging lamp above it and adjusted the toupee. A.G.L. looked straight up into the light without blinking.
“I’ve never seen him.”
Cleat removed the toupee. The bald head gleamed. Ann caught her breath and leaned forward, craning her neck sideways.
“Head’s sunburnt on top,” Cleat said. “I figure he didn’t always wear the hairpiece.”
“No,” Helen Johnson said clearly, “I have never seen him.”
Ann said nothing. They went out together. Ann called back through the closing door: “I’ll be in the office.”
The door was opened again almost immediately, and Mrs. Miner came in. Cleat seized her roughly by the arm:
“I want you to take a good hard look now, Mrs. What’s your first name?”
“Amy.”
“I want the truth now, Amy. You know him, say so. You have any doubts, I’ll give you a little while to make up your mind. That clear?”
“Yessir,” she answered tonelessly.
“Whatever you do, don’t lie to me, Amy. That’s what they call suppressing evidence. It’s just as bad as the original crime itself. That clear?”
“Yessir.”
“You know and I know,” Cleat said, “that if this fella here was mixed up with your husband, you’d know it. You couldn’t help knowing it—”
“Hire a hall, Lieutenant,” I said.
Amy Miner looked at me gratefully. She, too, had changed to different clothes, a knitted jersey suit thatsagged on her thin body. I guessed that she had inherited it from Mrs. Johnson, or from a plumper version of herself.
Cleat placed an arm around her back and propelled her to the table. She winced away, more from Cleat than from the body. Cleat jerked her back by the arm. He hated criminals. He hated anyone connected with criminals.
I moved up behind him. “Easy, Lieutenant.”
His voice remained perfectly bland. “Now watch it, Amy.” With a showman’s gesture, he manipulated the toupee.
Her breath made a small shrill sighing in her nose. “No, I never saw him.”
“Wait now, just take your time.” He whisked the toupee off.
“No,” she said. “I never saw him, with Fred or anybody else.”
“His initials are A.G.L. Doesn’t that suggest a name to you?”
“No. Can I go now?”
“Take one more good look.”
She looked down and wagged her head sharply, twice. “No. And I can tell you, my Fred didn’t do it. He never lifted his hand against man or beast. Never in all the years I’ve known him.”
“What about last February?” Cleat said.
“That was an accident.”
“Maybe. This was no accident. Maybe that wasn’t either. We got two unidentified bodies now. They’re piling up like cordwood. Where’s Fred, Amy?”
She said in a still, cold fury: “If I knew I wouldn’t tell you.”
“Do you know?” Cleat towered over her, working his eyebrows.
“I said I didn’t. Ask me some more if you want, though.”
Balling his fist, Cleat thrust it up into contact with her chin, and held it there. They stared into each other’s eyes like trysting lovers. Cleat moved his fist upward slightly. Her head snapped back.
She stepped away. Her features sharpened to a cutting edge. “Rough me up, why don’t you? Fred isn’t here to protect
“I haven’t dared tell him. I left him sleeping, poor dear. Well.” She squared her shoulders and turned to Cleat. “You brought me here to see him, didn’t you? I might as well get it over with.”
“We looked at it like this,” Cleat said. “If him and Miner were in cahoots, you might have seen him with Miner some time, or maybe loitering around casing the joint. He certainly had a line on your routine, mail deliveries and such. I realize it’s a painful ordeal, ma’am.”
“Not at all. I’ve frequently handled cadavers.”
Cleat’s eyebrows jumped.
I said: “Mrs. Johnson was a nurse. But wouldn’t Mrs. Miner be more likely—?”
“I got her waiting outside. Now, Mrs. Johnson, if you don’t mind.”
She and Ann approached the table. Cleat switched on a hanging lamp above it and adjusted the toupee. A.G.L. looked straight up into the light without blinking.
“I’ve never seen him.”
Cleat removed the toupee. The bald head gleamed. Ann caught her breath and leaned forward, craning her neck sideways.
“Head’s sunburnt on top,” Cleat said. “I figure he didn’t always wear the hairpiece.”
“No,” Helen Johnson said clearly, “I have never seen him.”
Ann said nothing. They went out together. Ann called back through the closing door: “I’ll be in the office.”
The door was opened again almost immediately, and Mrs. Miner came in. Cleat seized her roughly by the arm:
“I want you to take a good hard look now, Mrs. What’s your first name?”
“Amy.”
“I want the truth now, Amy. You know him, say so. You have any doubts, I’ll give you a little while to make up your mind. That clear?”
“Yessir,” she answered tonelessly.
“Whatever you do, don’t lie to me, Amy. That’s what they call suppressing evidence. It’s just as bad as the original crime itself. That clear?”
“Yessir.”
“You know and I know,” Cleat said, “that if this fella here was mixed up with your husband, you’d know it. You couldn’t help knowing it—”
“Hire a hall, Lieutenant,” I said.
Amy Miner looked at me gratefully. She, too, had changed to different clothes, a knitted jersey suit thatsagged on her thin body. I guessed that she had inherited it from Mrs. Johnson, or from a plumper version of herself.
Cleat placed an arm around her back and propelled her to the table. She winced away, more from Cleat than from the body. Cleat jerked her back by the arm. He hated criminals. He hated anyone connected with criminals.
I moved up behind him. “Easy, Lieutenant.”
His voice remained perfectly bland. “Now watch it, Amy.” With a showman’s gesture, he manipulated the toupee.
Her breath made a small shrill sighing in her nose. “No, I never saw him.”
“Wait now, just take your time.” He whisked the toupee off.
“No,” she said. “I never saw him, with Fred or anybody else.”
“His initials are A.G.L. Doesn’t that suggest a name to you?”
“No. Can I go now?”
“Take one more good look.”
She looked down and wagged her head sharply, twice. “No. And I can tell you, my Fred didn’t do it. He never lifted his hand against man or beast. Never in all the years I’ve known him.”
“What about last February?” Cleat said.
“That was an accident.”
“Maybe. This was no accident. Maybe that wasn’t either. We got two unidentified bodies now. They’re piling up like cordwood. Where’s Fred, Amy?”
She said in a still, cold fury: “If I knew I wouldn’t tell you.”
“Do you know?” Cleat towered over her, working his eyebrows.
“I said I didn’t. Ask me some more if you want, though.”
Balling his fist, Cleat thrust it up into contact with her chin, and held it there. They stared into each other’s eyes like trysting lovers. Cleat moved his fist upward slightly. Her head snapped back.
She stepped away. Her features sharpened to a cutting edge. “Rough me up, why don’t you? Fred isn’t here to protect
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