Free Escape the Night by Mignon G. Eberhart

“Yeah, that’s right. Well, no, it looks like an accident. But since she told you somebody was trying to murder her, I thought maybe you’d better know. Sure. Okay.”

CHAPTER SIX
    H E PUT DOWN THE telephone and turned around toward them. He was a big, hearty man with a deeply tanned face and sun-wrinkles around his eyes. Into the stupefied, abysmal silence in the room Jem said in a thunderstruck voice: “What did you say?”
    Serena never forgot the next five seconds. She remembered them though in a picture: the long, lived-in room, the books, and bright Mexican rugs on the floor; the flames in the fireplace and Jem standing there before them, his hands in his pockets, his expression one of frowning incredulity and disbelief. And the policeman walking quietly toward them. He stopped opposite Jem. He glanced at her and back at Jem, and said, “Why, this old lady, this Miss Condit, phoned in yesterday and said somebody was trying to kill her. Just like that. Chief asked her why she thought so and she wouldn’t say. But she said couldn’t the police do something about it. I don’t know what the chief said; he thought she was cracked. People here don’t …” he shrugged. “And then about noon she phoned again and said she guessed she was mistaken and to forget it. He thought she was having a brainstorm. People do, you know. You’d be surprised …” He appeared to ruminate on past episodes. Then his eyes fastened upon Serena again. “You the young lady that was with her? Did you see her fall?”
    “N-no,” replied Serena in a voice that seemed dragged up from some unfathomable depth.
    “Did she scream?”
    “No,” she said again in the same distant, nightmare voice.
    “Did you see anybody around?”
    “W-what?” It was queer but she couldn’t seem to take anything in.
    “Did you see anybody around? Anybody that could’ve pushed her,” explained Anderson.
    “No!” she cried in sharp horror. “No! We were alone. She rounded the curve ahead of me. I stopped to put down the dog. And when I got out on the curve she …” Serena’s throat closed so hard she had to stop.
    Anderson’s eyes were very keen. He said suddenly: “What’s the matter with your hand?”
    “Oh. That.” The handkerchief showed white and clear against her blue skirt. Scarcely knowing what she did, she pulled it off. “It’s stopped bleeding. I slipped and scratched my hand. It was what delayed me. I didn’t see her fall.”
    Anderson looked at her hand in a remote yet observant way. “Quite a bruise. Lucky you didn’t go over yourself. How far behind were you?”
    “Not far. Just around the curve.”
    “Wonder if you’d mind coming along to the place and showing us?” asked Anderson matter-of-factly.
    “But she—look here,” said Jem quickly. “Miss March has had a pretty bad shock. Couldn’t she show you tomorrow, or …”
    “Rather you’d do it now,” said Anderson.
    “But she couldn’t have been murdered!” cried Serena. “I was there. She couldn’t have been.”
    “Okay,” said Anderson agreeably. “You want to come too, Mr. Daly? It’s nearly dark, we’d better get along.”
    It was colder, too. Jem opened the door and closed it quickly on Pooky who, wearily, would have followed. The air was cold and moist, and it was much darker. The gray sky and gray sea when they came out above them again merged in the near distance with twilight. It was still light enough though to see the swirling white foam and the ugly rocks below. Along that treacherous path Jem again took her hand firmly in his own.
    Again she pointed and explained in full detail. The other policeman, waiting with Dave, had few questions but both listened. The sea pounded and roared and when they left the ledge of rock and started back it was so nearly dark that one of them took out a small flashlight, holding it carefully so there would be not even a pinpoint of light showing out to sea, but so they could follow that narrow