Free Don't Lie to Me by Donald E. Westlake Page A

past eleven, and statements were going to be taken from possibly forty people, I didn’t see how he planned to make it all work out. Though I guessed that the most important people—the museum directors, for instance—would be taken first, while the least important—graduate students and private guards—would be the ones to cool their heels the longest.
    Inspector Stanton finished at last, and climbed down from the bench with evident relief. He was followed by the detective teams, reading off lists of names and telling people what rooms they should go to. There were three pairs of detectives, each with a stenographer. The entire Allied group was to be questioned by Grinella and Hargerson, as it turned out, and they wanted us in a room on the second floor.
    The room we were to wait in was “Advertising in the Fifties,” the place where I’d found the John Doe. We nine from Allied were joined there by two girl students; they took the only bench, and the rest of us stood in the middle of the room, talking together in low tones. I knew a few of the uniformed men, and was introduced to the rest. Tendler and Twain were Muller’s assistants on the Monday-Friday day shift. Daniels worked the weekend days, when the museum was closed, and O’Keefe worked the three nights that I had off. Finally, Edwards was there, he being my predecessor on the night shift.
    I was interested to meet Edwards, since if anyone from Allied was involved in the thefts, he would have been the one with the strongest opportunity, but one look at him convinced me he was innocent. A frail man in his early sixties, he had washed-out blue eyes, false teeth that clicked, and a mournful line of talk—mostly about his ailing wife and thoughtless children. The thoughtless children appeared to be men and women in their thirties, all of whom were living in California. In self-defense, no doubt.
    The interrogations were delayed by Goldrich, who went off to tell the detectives that he wanted to be present during all the questioning of Allied employees. The problem was referred to Inspector Stanton downstairs, who agreed to it, leaving only one more brief delay while a folding chair was found for Goldrich to sit in. After which Goldrich returned to us, because the girl students were to be talked to first.
    It all went quickly enough, once it got started. The girls took about three minutes each to give their statements, and departed giggling and bouncing down the stairs; I wondered if they’d been aware that they’d waited in the room where the body had been found.
    Grazko was next, followed by Muller and then the other two day men; all fast and efficient. Essentially, Inspector Stanton was mapping the territory this time through, not hoping for any great revelations this early in the game. A little later he would be coming back to individuals who interested him, then with more specific goals in mind for the interrogation.
    Daniels and O’Keefe went next, and now it was down to Edwards and me. We sat together on the bench, and Edwards whined on about his family. I’d turned him off some time before, reducing my responses to an occasional grunt or nod of the head.
    Inspector Stanton had stopped by a couple of times during the statement-taking, just walking through this room, spending a minute or so inside, and then coming back through and out again. While O’Keefe was still in there, Stanton appeared once more and went in.
    I was wondering if they were saving me for last, and if so, why. I supposed Hargerson wanted to say a few things to me unrelated to the problem of stolen cartoons. Under the circumstances, I didn’t know if Goldrich’s presence would be an asset or a liability.
    But they took me ahead of Edwards, after all. The room they were using was “Comic Strips Between the World Wars”; this is where I’d been when I’d first heard Linda knocking at the main door. It was a long