or somebody else went in or out after I did.”
“No,” she said. “That woman wouldn’t have given up her ring-side seat. She’d have stayed right there watching the hall until the police arrived. If anybody else had gone in or out, she’d have said so.”
“Then there had to be somebody else already in the apartment when I got there.”
“How would he get out?”
“Through the kitchen and down the back stairway that leads to the garage in the basement. There’s an exit to the alley on the ground floor.”
“Hmmm,” she said. “But you didn’t see anybody else in the apartment:”
“No. But I was only in the living room.”
“You didn’t see a coat, wrap, hat, or a purse, or anything?”
“No. I wouldn’t have noticed, though, if there had been one. I was boiling, and all I saw was Stedman.”
“If there were somebody there, why would he suddenly decide to kill Stedman? Presumably, it would be a friend or acquaintance.”
“Or one of his girl friends. I don’t know. All I know is that he was all right when I went out of the room, and less than five minutes later he was dead.”
“Do you think anybody will ever believe it?”
“Of course not. Why do you think I ran?”
“It does have one thing in its favor,” she said. “It’s stupid enough to be true. Anybody could make up a better story.”
I shrugged and got up to prowl restlessly around the room. Light was fading now inside the house. I turned, and her eyes were on me. This time she didn’t look away. She shook her head musingly.
“I keep trying to decide whether you look more like a Roman gladiator,” she said, “or some raffish medieval monk who got caught in the wrong bedroom.”
“Well, my clothes will be dry in a little while.”
“Oh, I don’t mind. It’s a fascinating combination—a cassock and a black eye.”
There was something provocative in her tone, and when I turned quickly to look at her I saw the same thing in her eyes. I walked over beside her. She moved over almost imperceptibly, and I sat down on the edge of the chaise.
“Can’t we have a fire?” she asked teasingly.
“No.”
“Think how cozy it would be,” She smiled. “An open fire and the sound of the rain.”
“And the police kicking in the doors.”
“Maybe I’d send them away.”
“Sure you would,” I said.
“You don’t think so?” She ran a finger gently along the bruise on my jaw. “Does that hurt?”
“No,” I said. I kissed her. Her lips parted and her arms tightened fiercely around my neck. Then she was whispering against my mouth. “It’s the way you look in that garment. I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off you.”
I kissed her again. She made a little whining sound in her throat, but then she twisted away from me and stood up. Her face was flushed and her breathing ragged as she eluded my hands and ran toward the next room. I caught her beside the bed.
“It’s so cold in here,” she whispered. “Did you close that window?”
I reached out across the bed to pull the drape aside to make sure, and while I was off balance she hit me with a shoulder and both arms. I spun around, landed on the corner of the bed, and slid to the floor. She ran out into the living room and slammed the door shut. I got up, raging. She’d play hell getting away with that; there was no lock on the door.
I hit it on the run, turning the knob and starting to lunge through after her. It opened six inches or so, and stopped abruptly, and I slammed into it face-first. Something was holding it at the bottom. I could hear the sound of her heels as she ran out into the kitchen. Wild now, I backed off and hit the door again as hard as I could. The top sprang outward a few inches, but the bottom scarcely moved. I heard the car door close out in the garage and then the engine starting. I lunged frantically at the door, and this time I managed to fight my way around the edge of it. It was too late. She was backing out of the garage. I ran to the front window just in time to see her get out with the plastic raincoat over her head, lock the garage doors, and then calmly get back in the car and drive off. She knew she was safe once she was outside the