homicide cop named Colton. He’s looking for me. He thinks I killed a guy named Milo Craybaugh. He thinks I killed that truck driver, Samuels, too.”
I led her toward the bedroom. “So I’m on the run. And if Colton catches you with me, then you’ll be in the mess too. I won’t blame you if you go back to bed and forget I ever called.”
She didn’t hesitate. She said, “Just tell me how I can help.”
I opened the bedroom door. I pointed to Annette. I said, “I came to her to get some answers. I found her this way. It looks like she took a triple dose of sleeping powders. I called you because I remembered you had a roommate who pulled this stunt once.”
Ingrid walked up to the bed. She didn’t waste time asking questions. She bent and sniffed Annette’s breath. She put her hand on the pale, damp skin. She said, “Make some hot, strong coffee. I’ll look for an emetic. She hasn’t been out too long.”
I went into the kitchen and put water on to boil. I could hear Ingrid rattling around in the bathroom. She joined me, frowning. “No emetics. Are there any eggs?”
There were eggs. I got them out of the refrigerator. Ingrid broke three into a cup, separating the whites from the yokes. She moved with a brisk competence that I envied. My own hands were busy shaking coffee all over the countertop. I had the heebies.
Ingrid said, “I’ll need some help. Bring a big pan and a jug of lukewarm water.” She took the egg whites into the bedroom.
I found a two quart kettle and a quart pitcher. I filled the pitcher with water. I carried everything after Ingrid into the bedroom. She had Annette propped up against pillows. Annette was like overcooked spaghetti. There was no solidity to her.
Ingrid was holding tight to Annette’s shoulders. She said, “Bring some towels, big ones.”
I brought towels, Ingrid spread one under Annette’s chin and down over her breast. I was vaguely conscious that Annette was completely naked.
Ingrid said, “Now hold her.”
I held Annette’s bare shoulders. Ingrid tipped Annette’s head back and started pouring the egg whites down her throat. She used the same technique Tibbets had earlier with the liquid he had fed Annette. Only this took more work, more patience. There wasn’t enough aliveness left in Annette now even for her throat muscles to help out.
The egg whites went down. Nothing came up. Nothing happened at all. Ingrid followed the egg whites with a glass of luke warm water. Still nothing.
She said, “Get her up and walk her.”
I threw back the covers and lifted Annette in my arms. I slid her down until her feet touched the floor. I put a little weight on her legs. They folded limply. I lifted her back up. I held her against me, her feet barely brushing the floor and began to walk around the room.
Ingrid said, “Don’t jiggle her so hard. What is this all about, Larry? Why should anyone suspect you of murder?”
I stopped jiggling Annette and waltzed with her. I said, “Colton suspects me of murder because someone set it up to put the finger on me.”
I filled her in on what had happened. I owed her an explanation now. Before, I had been anxious to keep her out of my troubles. I still felt that way, but she did have a right to know what was going on.
I said, “That’s where it stands. Annette went for a ride with Jacob Dolphin. She came back and got drunk. The last I saw of her, Tibbetts was pouring something down her throat.”
“Do you think he could have given her the sleeping powders?”
I said, “He could have. But why would he? The poor devil is in love with her.”
“Maybe he was jealous because she went out with Dolphin.”
I said, “I doubt that. I think her relationship with Dolphin is strictly business, and that Tibbetts knows it. No, she took the sleeping powders herself. I’m fairly certain of that. But I don’t know why.”
Ingrid was watching Annette’s slack features. A frown worried her forehead. “Do you
I led her toward the bedroom. “So I’m on the run. And if Colton catches you with me, then you’ll be in the mess too. I won’t blame you if you go back to bed and forget I ever called.”
She didn’t hesitate. She said, “Just tell me how I can help.”
I opened the bedroom door. I pointed to Annette. I said, “I came to her to get some answers. I found her this way. It looks like she took a triple dose of sleeping powders. I called you because I remembered you had a roommate who pulled this stunt once.”
Ingrid walked up to the bed. She didn’t waste time asking questions. She bent and sniffed Annette’s breath. She put her hand on the pale, damp skin. She said, “Make some hot, strong coffee. I’ll look for an emetic. She hasn’t been out too long.”
I went into the kitchen and put water on to boil. I could hear Ingrid rattling around in the bathroom. She joined me, frowning. “No emetics. Are there any eggs?”
There were eggs. I got them out of the refrigerator. Ingrid broke three into a cup, separating the whites from the yokes. She moved with a brisk competence that I envied. My own hands were busy shaking coffee all over the countertop. I had the heebies.
Ingrid said, “I’ll need some help. Bring a big pan and a jug of lukewarm water.” She took the egg whites into the bedroom.
I found a two quart kettle and a quart pitcher. I filled the pitcher with water. I carried everything after Ingrid into the bedroom. She had Annette propped up against pillows. Annette was like overcooked spaghetti. There was no solidity to her.
Ingrid was holding tight to Annette’s shoulders. She said, “Bring some towels, big ones.”
I brought towels, Ingrid spread one under Annette’s chin and down over her breast. I was vaguely conscious that Annette was completely naked.
Ingrid said, “Now hold her.”
I held Annette’s bare shoulders. Ingrid tipped Annette’s head back and started pouring the egg whites down her throat. She used the same technique Tibbets had earlier with the liquid he had fed Annette. Only this took more work, more patience. There wasn’t enough aliveness left in Annette now even for her throat muscles to help out.
The egg whites went down. Nothing came up. Nothing happened at all. Ingrid followed the egg whites with a glass of luke warm water. Still nothing.
She said, “Get her up and walk her.”
I threw back the covers and lifted Annette in my arms. I slid her down until her feet touched the floor. I put a little weight on her legs. They folded limply. I lifted her back up. I held her against me, her feet barely brushing the floor and began to walk around the room.
Ingrid said, “Don’t jiggle her so hard. What is this all about, Larry? Why should anyone suspect you of murder?”
I stopped jiggling Annette and waltzed with her. I said, “Colton suspects me of murder because someone set it up to put the finger on me.”
I filled her in on what had happened. I owed her an explanation now. Before, I had been anxious to keep her out of my troubles. I still felt that way, but she did have a right to know what was going on.
I said, “That’s where it stands. Annette went for a ride with Jacob Dolphin. She came back and got drunk. The last I saw of her, Tibbetts was pouring something down her throat.”
“Do you think he could have given her the sleeping powders?”
I said, “He could have. But why would he? The poor devil is in love with her.”
“Maybe he was jealous because she went out with Dolphin.”
I said, “I doubt that. I think her relationship with Dolphin is strictly business, and that Tibbetts knows it. No, she took the sleeping powders herself. I’m fairly certain of that. But I don’t know why.”
Ingrid was watching Annette’s slack features. A frown worried her forehead. “Do you
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