he had enjoyed himself. Charlie looked disgusted. Linus spoke at length about the other two kindergarten skits and the general reaction to them. It seemed that his class’s performance had been the most popular because it had been a total failure.
Heather sat back and wished that real life could only be that way!
They had barely gotten home and put Linus to bed when Voelker knocked on their door. He was terriblysorry to disturb them, but if he could just ask a few more questions …
“I thought we had already answered all your questions,” Heather said impatiently. She was usually so beautifully mannered, but tonight had been difficult and she was tired of going over the same ground again and again.
Detective Voelker’s face lengthened with remorse.
“Yes,” he said. “It’s difficult, isn’t it? Going over the same thing so many times. Still, there are a few things we thought we ought to check—routine, you understand …”
They went over the party again—who had stood where, who had given Walter Sloane a drink, who was left when the first symptoms came on.
“Nobody,” said Heather. “Nobody, as I’ve told you. Just Harry and me. Everyone else had gone already.”
“Yes, yes. So you did say.”
From there they turned to the past. Harry had known Walter Sloane for nearly thirty years, since Sloane had married Harry’s cousin Sally. Heather had known him for twenty years.
“Who do you know who might have a grudge against him?”
Heather shook her head. “You don’t understand. If this—this murderer is out to get Walter, then—well, it could be nearly
anybody
. Everybody has some kind of grudge against him. He’s that kind of man. He accumulates grudges as he goes.”
“What kind of grudges?”
“I wouldn’t like to say,” Heather said firmly. “It’s not for me to implicate anyone. And besides, it’s never anything serious. He just has such a bad manner about him.”
Yes, thought Voelker. Walter Sloane certainly did have a bad manner about him. Still, it was not very likely that some etiquette freak was trying to kill him for that.
“Do either of you have any kind of quarrel with Mr. Sloane?”
There was no good way of asking this, so Voelker had learned long ago to state it matter-of-factly. He knew he would not get a truthful answer, but he hoped to startle them into giving something away.
All he got for his trouble was a stony stare from both Crandalls.
“Certainly
not
,” said Harry with emphasis.
“You’ve told me yourself that you quarreled with him frequently, Professor Crandall.”
“Yes, of course. Are you seriously suggesting that because we disagreed over politics or certain points of information, that I would try to poison him?”
“Of course not. Naturally not. These questions, however, have to be asked …”
Soon after that he found himself outside their door, on his way to the car. The atmosphere had chilled subtly after that question about possible quarrels with Sloane. Voelker found that interesting. He wondered if there was something there …
The trouble with these circles of friends was that they all stuck together in a primordial kind of way. We are Insiders and you are an Outsider, they said. They were so used to being loyal and keeping each other’s secrets that they continued to do so, even in the face of a police investigation.
Voelker sighed. He could be missing the truth about the Crandalls. There could be nothing there. Nobody liked to have the finger of the law pointed straight at them. No one enjoyed answering questions.
That was the trouble with being the police. People had to talk to you, but they didn’t have to tell you everything they knew, either!
“Bernard, why are you sitting here in the dark?”
“I’m thinking.”
“Is Misty in there with you?”
A tail thumped against the floor. Maya switched the lights on.
“Honestly, Bernard. It gives me the creeps, the way you sit there without the lights on.”
“It
Heather sat back and wished that real life could only be that way!
They had barely gotten home and put Linus to bed when Voelker knocked on their door. He was terriblysorry to disturb them, but if he could just ask a few more questions …
“I thought we had already answered all your questions,” Heather said impatiently. She was usually so beautifully mannered, but tonight had been difficult and she was tired of going over the same ground again and again.
Detective Voelker’s face lengthened with remorse.
“Yes,” he said. “It’s difficult, isn’t it? Going over the same thing so many times. Still, there are a few things we thought we ought to check—routine, you understand …”
They went over the party again—who had stood where, who had given Walter Sloane a drink, who was left when the first symptoms came on.
“Nobody,” said Heather. “Nobody, as I’ve told you. Just Harry and me. Everyone else had gone already.”
“Yes, yes. So you did say.”
From there they turned to the past. Harry had known Walter Sloane for nearly thirty years, since Sloane had married Harry’s cousin Sally. Heather had known him for twenty years.
“Who do you know who might have a grudge against him?”
Heather shook her head. “You don’t understand. If this—this murderer is out to get Walter, then—well, it could be nearly
anybody
. Everybody has some kind of grudge against him. He’s that kind of man. He accumulates grudges as he goes.”
“What kind of grudges?”
“I wouldn’t like to say,” Heather said firmly. “It’s not for me to implicate anyone. And besides, it’s never anything serious. He just has such a bad manner about him.”
Yes, thought Voelker. Walter Sloane certainly did have a bad manner about him. Still, it was not very likely that some etiquette freak was trying to kill him for that.
“Do either of you have any kind of quarrel with Mr. Sloane?”
There was no good way of asking this, so Voelker had learned long ago to state it matter-of-factly. He knew he would not get a truthful answer, but he hoped to startle them into giving something away.
All he got for his trouble was a stony stare from both Crandalls.
“Certainly
not
,” said Harry with emphasis.
“You’ve told me yourself that you quarreled with him frequently, Professor Crandall.”
“Yes, of course. Are you seriously suggesting that because we disagreed over politics or certain points of information, that I would try to poison him?”
“Of course not. Naturally not. These questions, however, have to be asked …”
Soon after that he found himself outside their door, on his way to the car. The atmosphere had chilled subtly after that question about possible quarrels with Sloane. Voelker found that interesting. He wondered if there was something there …
The trouble with these circles of friends was that they all stuck together in a primordial kind of way. We are Insiders and you are an Outsider, they said. They were so used to being loyal and keeping each other’s secrets that they continued to do so, even in the face of a police investigation.
Voelker sighed. He could be missing the truth about the Crandalls. There could be nothing there. Nobody liked to have the finger of the law pointed straight at them. No one enjoyed answering questions.
That was the trouble with being the police. People had to talk to you, but they didn’t have to tell you everything they knew, either!
“Bernard, why are you sitting here in the dark?”
“I’m thinking.”
“Is Misty in there with you?”
A tail thumped against the floor. Maya switched the lights on.
“Honestly, Bernard. It gives me the creeps, the way you sit there without the lights on.”
“It
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