Free Murder for Two by George Harmon Coxe

one, Casey decided that Russell Gifford’s infatuation—if that was what it was—was easily understandable.
    â€œYou’re a friend of Russell Gifford’s, aren’t you?” Logan asked finally. “I suppose you know his wife.”
    â€œYes.” Dinah King’s smile remained at the corners of her mouth but it died instantly in her eyes.
    â€œDid you know—”
    â€œThat she was killed tonight? Yes, Lieutenant.”
    â€œHow?”
    â€œMr. Gifford phoned me.”
    â€œDid he tell you how she was killed?”
    â€œHe said she was shot. In her car, wasn’t it?”
    Casey took some of his drink, admiring the woman’s composure, liking that faintly accented tone. He watched Logan scowl at the end of his cigarette. Logan hadn’t expected such forthrightness and it stumped him momentarily. He rose and moved to the window, turned and came back, a slender, black-eyed man with straight black hair. He did not, Casey realized, look much like the layman’s idea of a lieutenant of detectives. His clothes were good and well-kept. He wore them well too, with occasionally a boutonniere and sometimes a dark Homburg. Good-looking in a lean dark way, there was an air of competence about him, a suggestion of hardness lurking in his make-up that, never flaunted unnecessarily, could be summoned instantly when needed. Now he came back, approaching his subject more directly.
    â€œYou called on Miss Taylor tonight.”
    Dinah King considered this, as though trying to guess just how much Logan knew. “Yes,” she said finally.
    â€œYou left her apartment about nine. Mind telling me the reason for that call?”
    Dinah King rose quickly and picked up her coat. “I’m afraid I do, Lieutenant. It was purely a personal matter and I don’t care to discuss it.”
    Logan looked at her and took his time doing it. He wasn’t insolent in his inspection, just casual. A crooked smile slid across his mouth and vanished.
    â€œAll right, Miss King,” he said. “You see, we already know the reason for the call. Mr. Gifford was more frank with us.”
    Dinah King’s glance wavered and suddenly stopped wavering and her eyes took fire. Spots of color touched her cheekbones and when she answered her voice was not warm, but slow and deliberate.
    â€œThen you know everything, don’t you?”
    â€œNearly everything,” Logan said. “I just wanted to see if your reasons were the same as Mr. Gifford’s. Oh, by the way, I suppose you came over here after you left Miss Taylor.”
    Dinah King had turned away to slip on her coat. She felt her hair and wrapped the coat more snugly as she raced Logan.
    â€œYes,” she said. “I have a show here at ten-fifteen.”
    Casey got up and drained his glass. From the way he felt he might as well have had a glass of water. He didn’t like this scene and he thought Logan was cockeyed in assuming Dinah King had anything to do with the death of Rosalind Taylor. Furthermore he had an idea that no more would Dinah King sit at a table with him and talk and have a drink when he needed company.
    He said good-night and she answered him, which was something, and he and Logan went down the corridor. Out in the main room tables were being shoved around with the chairs on top and the cleaning corps was getting down to business. The barmen had all gone and Casey left his glass on the counter and followed Logan out into the night.
    â€œSatisfied?” he said, when they got in the car.
    â€œNo,” Logan said.
    â€œYou don’t know a damn thing more than you knew before.”
    â€œI met her, didn’t I? And I’ll give you one thing. She’s nice, all right. Very nice. Of course that wouldn’t stop her from being a murderess—”
    â€œOh, quiet,” Casey said wearily.
    â€œBut she is nice.”
    â€œWhat good does it do you? After tonight she