Free Killing the Goose by Frances and Richard Lockridge

closed the door. He crossed the kitchen again, taking it in with his eyes. There was a grill at one end which presumably connected with a ventilator. Under the grill, on a small wooden table, was a telephone.
    Mrs. Pennock was worth keeping an eye on. Bill Weigand went upstairs to arrange for the eye. Mrs. Pennock was going to get herself into trouble, if she didn’t watch out. Trouble of one kind or of another.

V. Tuesday, 9:45 P.M. to 11:25 P.M.
    Bill Weigand stopped a moment to tell Detective Stein that an eye was to be kept on Mrs. Pennock and then went toward the sound of voices into the living room. The Norths and Dorian, and Mullins too, were sitting in the living room as if they lived in it. And Pam North was talking, with some intensity.
    â€œSuppose he didn’t,” she said. “And he didn’t because of the apple. Think how he feels—somebody killed the girl he was in love with and then the police grabbed him and tried to make him talk and wouldn’t give him cigarettes or anything and then they just locked him up and didn’t explain. Think how he feels. How would you feel?”
    This evidently was to Mullins.
    â€œListen, Mrs. North,” Mullins said. “We didn’t hurt the kid. We just asked him questions, sort of. And maybe the apple is just an apple.” Mullins paused. “That she ate,” he said, earnestly.
    Pam North shook her head.
    â€œShe got the apple after he went,” she said. “She ate it and then somebody killed her. Because she couldn’t get the apple the first time she tried and—”
    â€œIf he can prove that, the kid’s all right,” Bill said, from the doorway. He went on. “If she got the apple after he left, she was alive after he left. And he didn’t go back. There wasn’t time between his leaving and his clocking in where he worked. But he can’t prove she got the apple after he left.”
    â€œWell,” Pam said, “I think she did. Because otherwise the apple doesn’t mean anything. And it does, because it’s an oddity and oddities always do.” She paused, considering. “At least,” she said, “they always have before.”
    â€œWhich doesn’t—” Jerry began.
    â€œI know, Jerry,” Pam said. “That’s all very well to say. Like there being no proof that when you put a kettle of water on a stove the water will boil, because maybe it has always been an accident and maybe this time the accident won’t happen. But that doesn’t mean anything.” Pam paused again. “That’s philosophy, ” she said, with a certain inflection. The inflection left philosophy with little to stand on.
    â€œI wish, Pam,” Bill said, “that you’d quit worrying about the apple so much. If you want to worry, help us worry about Elliot.”
    Pam said there was no use worrying about Elliot until they caught him. She said you couldn’t worry about things you knew as little about as you did about John Elliot. At least, she couldn’t. Whereas the apple—
    â€œThis girl who saw the boy leave,” she said. “This—what was her name?”
    â€œHarper,” Mullins said. “Cleo.” His face assumed an expression of doubt. “That’s what she said,” he insisted. “Cleo.”
    â€œCleo Harper,” Mrs. North said. “What did she have to eat?”
    â€œMy God, Pam,” Bill said. “What do you think we are?”
    He looked at Dorian, but instead of smiling, she was looking thoughtfully at nothing. Then she looked at him and shook her head.
    â€œSuppose,” she said, “she had a baked apple. Wouldn’t that make a difference?”
    Bill looked at her and then at Pam North. They had something there.
    â€œRight,” he said. “It would. Or it might. We’ll go into it, eventually. But meanwhile, I’ve—”
    He did not finish because