Free Murder in a Hurry by Frances and Richard Lockridge

her, and seemed to understand the disapproval in her voice, because he barked again, this time on a different note. Then, Liza thought, he almost growled, but Mary Halder spoke his name quickly, and he relaxed and went to her. “I’ll take him downstairs,” Mary Halder said, and looked briefly to Weigand for his approval. He nodded. She picked the little dog up in her arms, then, and went toward the spiral staircase. But she went behind it and to another flight leading down. She was gone several minutes, and during those minutes, Weigand merely waited; during those minutes no one spoke. Then Mary Halder came back up the stairs, without the dog, and went back to her chair.
    Liza looked at her and then, for some reason, at Pam and Jerry North. She was just in time to see some unspoken communication between them—a communication of eyes, of the slow movement of Mr. North’s head. Again she felt, as she had felt in regard to Brian’s family, that she was alien, left out. The feeling was only momentary; it was ridiculous to have such a feeling; the Norths were as she and Brian would be. Oh please, as we will be , she thought, and felt lost again at the need for thinking it, for praying it, like a child. Until now, until today, it had been as inevitable, as beyond the need of praying for, as her next breath.
    Now, with the little, curiously named, dog put away “downstairs,” with Mary Halder back, the group turned again to Lieutenant Weigand who stood, more or less facing the windows, with the windows forming a background for the men and women who faced him. He waited a moment, seemed about to speak, and then turned away again, seeing the attention of the others go to something behind him. Sergeant Mullins was coming down the room. When he saw Weigand’s attention, he made a motion with his head, and Weigand went up the room to join him. They talked for a moment, and then walked back toward the door, where two other men in civilian clothes were waiting. The four of them walked together, then, and it was several minutes before Weigand turned back toward the group at the end of the room, regarded it for a moment, and then walked back. Their eyes, which had followed him as he left, were on him now as he approached.
    â€œMiss O’Brien,” Weigand said, and he spoke crisply, “this man who was with you when you found Mr. Halder’s body. Will you describe him again, please?”
    Now all of them looked at her.
    â€œA little man,” she said. “A very little, old man with a wrinkled face, with blue eyes, with—” She went on, doing as well as she could, trying to make words do what a pencil could so much better have done. She finished.
    â€œDoes any of you know such a man?” Weigand asked now, and he spoke more curtly than he had done before, as if now there were need for haste.
    For a moment no one answered and Liza, looking at the faces of the Halders, could not tell at once whether the description had meaning for any of them. But then, as if he had waited merely to give the others a chance, after looking briefly at the woman who now, again, seemed almost too young to be his mother, Brian spoke.
    â€œSure,” he said. “A crony of Dad’s. His name’s Felix. I’m not sure of his last name—Stedman, something like that. He and Dad played chess together; when Dad was away—he usually fed the animals. He had a little shop around there somewhere. A second hand store, something like that.” He stopped.
    Weigand nodded. He looked around at the others. “Any of the rest of you—?” he asked.
    â€œI heard of him; my husband mentioned him,” Mary Halder said. “Just about that much, but I don’t think his name is Stedman.”
    For a moment longer Weigand waited. Nobody else contributed anything.
    â€œNot Stedman,” Bill said. “Sneddiger. Felix Sneddiger. He’s an upholsterer; has a little shop