Murder in the Telephone Exchange by June Wright

said, shaking my head. “They wouldn’t know any more than what the papers printed. Who was it rang you, anyway?”
    Gloria got up from the table. “I—I won’t tell you.”
    I shrugged indifferently and folded my table-napkin. “Have it your own way, my pet,” I said, “but if you are a wise person, which I very much doubt, you’ll take my advice and go straight to Inspector Coleman.”
    She turned towards the door sullenly.
    â€œSurely you realize that once the police know you were late off, they’ll question you. Then where will you be? If an untrained person like myself can see through your flimsy yarn, how will you fare with experts? That is all I have to say. You came to me for advice, and I have given it to you.Have you finished, Mac? I’ll dash up and get a hat. You two can start on ahead, but don’t you forget to see Mrs. Bates first, Gloria.”
    * * * * *
    They were nearly at the station when I caught them up. I hadn’t bothered to look up a train. Having travelled for years on that particular line to attend different shifts at the Exchange, I practically knew the time-table by heart. Mac and I both had monthly tickets, but we had to wait at the barrier for Patterson, who lived in the eastern suburbs, to buy a single to town. I found a vacant carriage, but the short journey was unbroken by any conversation. Gloria seemed subdued, and neither Mac nor I felt inclined for any more talk. It was only when we were crossing the river into the city that I asked Gloria: “Have you made up your mind? You can come with Mac and me to see the Inspector.”
    â€œI’ve nothing to say to him,” she muttered sulkily.
    â€œYou’re a silly little fool,” I told her roundly, wondering why I bothered. “You’re certain to be found out, isn’t she, Mac?” I saw the strained look come back into Mac’s eyes. She nodded and turned to the window. I watched her averted head in silence.
    â€œMac, Mac,” cried a voice in my brain, “why don’t you tell me what it is? What has filled your eyes with inexpressible sadness and lined your lovely skin?”
    We lost Gloria when we got into town. She must have slipped away in the crowd at the station. I was rather thankful. After all, whatever foolish game she was playing, it was none of my concern. I had vindicated myself of any responsibility that she might have thrust upon me by appealing for my advice.
    We boarded a west city bus that would take us right to the Exchange door. It was too hot to walk for pleasure, although the usual lunch-time crowds were milling at the street corners waiting for the green light. Wet or fine, city workers always take a constitutional down town between the hours of 1 p.m. and 2 p.m.
    I always think that the Exchange buildings look different by day; perhaps because of the continual stream of telephonists tripping up and down those few steps, passes in hand. By night, it is a gaunt, lonely place, situated on a hill away from the heart of the city. As we entered, I saw a summer-helmeted policeman sitting with our usual guard. I supposed that this was to be expected. I nudged Mac significantly as I fumbled for my pass. We walked by a group of Central girls who were talking together in the hall. They stopped to look at us curiously, and I noticed Mac’s chinlift a little. I gave them a brief nod as we went through the swing doors to the new building. The stuffy atmosphere of air-conditioning enveloped us. As we passed a block of apparatus, the continual click of the automatic feelers warned us that it must be after 2 p.m. and that afternoon work had commenced all over the city.
    Bill was on duty, so I entered the lift with but few qualms. He gave us his usual cheery greeting, perhaps a little kindlier than was his wont. I inquired mechanically after his vegetable garden.
    â€œDo you know where we can locate Inspector Coleman?” asked