This Way for a Shroud

"Putting himself out of our reach for the time being," Conrad said. "Well, if we get the evidence we want, we'll pick him up fast enough. Looks as if we're on the right track at last, doesn't it, sir?"

"If only this girl saw him!"

"We'll know before long." Conrad was controlling his own impatience with an effort. "Do you want to talk to her yourself?"

"Forest shook his head.

"You handle it, Paul. You have a lighter touch than I have. I don't know why it is, but I seem to scare the pants off people when I talk to them."

"Only if they happen to have a guilty conscience." Conrad got to his feet. "I'll have a written report for you by this afternoon. I may as well go upstairs and see what's happening."

"Let me know as soon as they pick up Weiner."

"I will, sir."

Conrad took the elevator to the tenth floor. Jackson and Norris sat on straightbacked chairs either side of a door at the far end of the passage. Both of them nursed Thompson guns. Conrad was leaving nothing to chance. He realized Frances could be a vitally important witness, and Maurer's mob would stop at nothing to silence her.

"Any news yet?" he asked Jackson.

"Doc's just gone, sir. All quiet here."

Conrad rapped on the door which was opened by Madge.

"I was just going to call you. Doc, says you can talk to her now."

"How is she?"

"A bit jumpy. I don't wonder at it. She's had a bad time."

"Yes."

"She's in the far room," Madge said. "Do you want me?"

"Not right now. If she's ready to make a statement, I'll call you."

As he was speaking the nurse came out of the inner room and nodded to him.

"Don't let her talk too much. She needs a good sleep."

"I won't keep her long," Conrad said, and aware his heart was beginning to beat unevenly, he walked into the inner room.

Frances lay on a couch with a rug thrown over her. She was very pale, and her big dark eyes looked at Conrad with uneasy anxiety.

He was aware of a sudden tightening of his throat as he looked down at her. Her face in the photograph had fascinated him, and he realized with a sense of shock that he could be in love with her. It was fantastic, of course, as he hadn't even spoken to her as yet, but the feeling was there, and for a moment he remained still, unable to collect his thoughts or to say anything.

She lay motionless, watching him, and he pulled himself together with an effort.

"I expect Miss Fielding told you I wanted to talk to you," he said, and his voice was husky. "I'm Paul Conrad, special investigator to the District Attorney's office. How are you feeling, Miss Coleman?"

"I – I'm all right, thank you," she said in a small voice. "I want to go home."

"We'll fix all that in a little while," he said soothingly. "There are a few questions I want to ask you first." He pulled up a chair and sat down near her. "I'm not going to keep you long because the nurse said you should have some sleep."

"I don't want to sleep. I just want to go home."

"Have you any relations, Miss Coleman? Someone you would like me to get into touch with to let them know where you are?"

He saw a scared expression jump into her eyes, and she looked quickly away from him.

"I haven't any relations."

"No one at all?"

"No."

He suddenly realized that this interview might not be as straightforward as he had imagined.

"Miss Coleman, I believe you called on Miss Arnot on the 9th, around seven o'clock."

Her dark eyes flickered uneasily over his face, then moved away.

"Yes, I did."

"Did you see Miss Arnot?"

"Yes."

Conrad was aware now that the palms of his hands were moist and his heart was beginning to bang against his ribs.

"May I ask why you wanted to see her?"

"I – I would rather not say." A faint flush rose to her face and she looked anxiously around the room as if she were trying to find a way of escape.

"Well I won't press that question. You did see Miss Arnot?"

"Yes."

"How long were you with her?"

"Oh, about five minutes. Not longer."

"Do you know why I am asking these questions?" Conrad said gently, his eyes on her face.

"I – I suppose it's because of Miss Arnot's death."

"That's right: because of her murder."

He saw her flinch, and bite her under-lip.

"What did you do when you left Miss Arnot?"

"Why, I came away."

"Did you walk down the drive?"

"Yes."

Conrad took out his handkerchief and wiped his hands. The next question would decide Maurer's fate.

"While you were in the grounds of the estate, did you see anyone, apart from the guard or Miss Arnot?"

"I – I don't think so."

She was looking down at the pattern of the rug that covered her, and Conrad stared at her, a feeling of sick disappointment coming over him.

"You're sure of that?"

"Yes."

Why didn't she look at him? he wondered. Could she be lying?

"Miss Coleman, this is vitally important. I want you to think carefully before you answer my next question. You know Miss Arnot has been murdered. She was killed on the 9th, a few minutes after seven o'clock: at the time you were there. We had hoped you might have seen the killer. Are you absolutely sure you didn't see anyone except the guard and Miss Arnot?"