Free The Seventh Commandment by Lawrence Sanders Page A

the counter; a hardwood rack holding knives and a butchers' round; a double-sink of stainless steel; gleaming white appliances; and glass-doored cupboards holding enough tableware to feed a regiment.
    "I just have a few questions," Dora said, addressing Charles. "I understand that on the evening Mr. Starrett was killed, there was a cocktail party for family and friends."
    He nodded.
    "Where was it held-in the living room?"
    "Mostly," he said. "That's where I served drinks and canapes. But people wandered around."
    "You mean they all weren't in the living room constantly during the party?"
    "They wandered," he repeated. "Only Mrs. Olivia remained seated. The others stood and mingled, went to their bedrooms to fetch something or make a phone call."
    Clara turned from the sink. "Sometimes they came in here," she said. "For more ice, or maybe for another drink while Charles was busy passing the tray of hors d'oeuvres."
    "Were there any arguments during the party? Did anyone make a scene?"
    Wife and husband looked at each other, then shook their heads.
    "How long have you been with the Starretts?" Dora asked, bedeviled by the fear that she wasn't asking the right questions.
    "Seven years, come March," Charles replied. "I started with them first. Then, about a year later, the cook they had left and Clara took over."
    "Both of you get along well with the family?"
    Charles shrugged. "No complaints," he said.
    "I understand the late Mr. Starrett had a short temper."
    Again the shrug. "He liked everything just so."
    "And when it wasn't, he let you know?"
    "He let everyone know," Clara said, turning again from her task at the sink. "He was a mean, mean man."
    "Clara!" her husband warned.
    "Well, he was," she insisted. "The way he treated people-it just wasn't right."
    "Speak only good of the dead," her husband admonished.
    "Bullshit," Clara said unexpectedly.
    Hopeless, Dora decided, realizing she was getting nowhere. These people weren't going to reveal any skeletons in the Starretts' closet, and she couldn't blame them; they had cushy jobs and wanted to hang on to them.
    She took a final look around the kitchen. Her gaze fell on that hardwood knife rack attached to the wall. It had eight slots. Two were empty. She stepped to the rack, withdrew a long bread knife with a serrated edge, and examined it.
    "Nice," she said.
    "Imported," Charles said. "Carbon steel. The best."
    Dora replaced the bread knife. "Two are missing," she said casually. "What are they?"
    Clara, at the sink, held up a paring knife she was using to scrape carrots. "This is one," she said.
    "And the other?" Dora persisted.
    Charles and Clara exchanged a quick glance. "It was an eight-inch chefs knife," he said. "I'm sure it's around here somewhere, but we can't find it."
    "It'll probably turn up," Dora said, knowing it wouldn't.

Chapter 12
    Mike Trevalyan had frequently urged Dora to use a tape recorder during interviews. Most of the investigators on his staff used them, but she refused.
    "It makes witnesses freeze up," she argued. "They see that little black box and they're afraid I'm going to use their words in court, or they might say something they'll want to deny later."
    So she worked without a recorder, and didn't even take notes during interviews. But as soon as possible she wrote an account of her conversations in a thick spiral notebook: questions asked, answers received. She also made notes on the physical appearance of the witnesses, their clothing, speech patterns, any unusual gestures or mannerisms.
    She returned to the Bedlington after her session with Clara and Charles Hawkins and got to work writing out the details of her meeting with the servants and with Mrs. Eleanor Starrett. That completed, she slowly read over everything in the notebook, all the conversations and her personal reactions to the people involved. Then she phoned Detective John Wenden.
    He wasn't in, but she left a message asking him to call her at the Bedlington. She went into the