You Have the Right to Remain Silent by Barbara Paul Page B

death had shaken him—but a second father? Marian doubted it.
    Building security was tight. Marian had to show her badge in the lobby even to be allowed on the elevator, and again on the eighteenth floor, where she was issued a visitor’s badge by a receptionist. Universal Laser wasn’t exactly what Marian had been expecting. For one thing, Dress for success didn’t mean much there; she saw more jeans and sneakers than she did neckties and high heels. The offices themselves disclosed a pleasant-enough working environment, but there’d been no attempt to turn them into a showplace. On her way to Edgar Quinn’s office, Marian spotted an arrow sign pointing to the legal department. On impulse she turned in that direction.
    The legal department was a small complex of offices off to itself. Two women were standing in the middle of the reception area, talking; they looked distraught and nervous. Marian cleared her throat and they both jumped. She asked for Sherman Bigelow’s secretary; in Mr. Bigelow’s office, she was told, over there.
    Marian knocked on the door and was invited in. The woman sitting behind the big desk had been crying; she made a visible effort to pull herself together. “May I help you?” she said automatically. The secretary’s theme song.
    Marian identified herself and learned the secretary’s name was North. She asked her, “Did you just hear of Mr. Bigelow’s death?”
    North shook her head. “It just hit me all over again, when I came in to check Mr. Bigelow’s calendar and see if he’d made any notes for what he wanted done this week.” Her voice was high and tense. “Normally he’d leave them on my desk, but now …”
    Marian asked to see the calendar. The secretary got up and walked around the desk to hand it to her. She turned out to be on the plump side and wearing baggy slaeks and espadrilles; not the usual picture of an executive secretary, but she looked very comfortable. Marian glanced at Bigelow’s calendar. Business meetings, a doctor’s appointment, dinner engagement Thursday night. “This appointment with Dr. Greenberg … was Mr. Bigelow ill?”
    â€œNo, he just needed new glasses. Dr. Greenberg’s an ophthalmologist. Would you like me to make you a copy of the appointment sheet?” the secretary offered, thus saving Marian from having to ask.
    â€œThank you. Did Mr. Bigelow seem to be acting normally when he got back from Washington last week?”
    â€œNormally?” A high squeak.
    â€œDid he appear to be worried, distracted? On edge?”
    North paused long enough to get her voice under control. “I noticed nothing, Sergeant. Everything appeared quite as usual to me.”
    Marian studied the woman, wondering what was going on. “Ms North, what are you afraid of?”
    Her eyes grew huge. “Four people in this company are murdered and you ask me what I’m afraid of?”
    â€œYou think you are in danger?”
    â€œMe? No, ah, why should I be in danger? I never said anything!”
    â€œNever said anything? About what?”
    â€œAbout anything! I don’t talk outside these offices. I keep the company’s confidentiality.”
    Marian stepped closer to her. “I think you just told me that you do know something.”
    â€œNo I don’t! I mean, I know my job, but that’s all! I don’t know why Mr. Bigelow was killed! Sergeant Larch, I’m trying to cooperate—please don’t bully me. We’re all very distressed, and this is difficult for me.”
    â€œOf course it is,” Marian said soothingly. “I know it’s not easy and I want you to understand I do appreciate your cooperation. Especially since we can’t locate Mrs. Bigelow—anything you can tell me will be a help.”
    The other woman looked surprised. “Mrs. Bigelow? She’s at their place in Connecticut.”
    It was