and I was walking back and forth on the sidewalk in front of his building, trying to get up my courage to go inside. I had my key, of course, and the doorman would have let me in because he knew me. But I was afraid Fran would be furious with me if he was all right and knew I’d left him, and if he was dead I didn’t want to walk in on him, and—God, I just didn’t know what to do.”
“And then you saw me go into the building? But you wouldn’t have recognized me.”
“It was later than that. I saw you come out of the building. You were moving at the speed of light and you almost ran right into me. You sort of dodged me and went tearing off down the street, and a few minutes later a policeman came tearing out after you, and then the doorman told me you were a burglar who’d been in Mr. Flaxford’s apartment.”
“And then what?”
“Then the other policeman came downstairs a few minutes later and they talked about how Fran was dead and you had killed him. I didn’t know what had happened. I came back here and stayed in my apartment, and I was convinced the police would find out that I had been responsible, although I don’t think I really was responsible, but I was getting increasingly paranoid. I kept going to the window and looking out for cops, and then I saw you walk right into the building and I thought I was going to die. I didn’t know who you were or how you knew about me and I was sure you were coming after me to kill me.”
“Why would I be after you?”
“How did I know? But why else would you be coming into the building? I locked all my locks and I stood at the door shaking like a leaf and listening to you come up the stairs. When you reached the fourth floor I nearly died, and when you went on up to the fifth floor I thought you’d made a mistake and you’d be back down in a minute. When you didn’t come back down I couldn’t figure out what had happened. Finally I went upstairs and listened at the two doors up here, and when I heard sounds in this apartment I knew you must be in here because Rod was out of town and the apartment was empty. I couldn’t figure out what you were doing here but I went back to my own apartment and knocked myself out with a Seconal, and in the morning I bought the papers and found out what had happened and who you were.”
“And then you called Rod and arranged to pick up his keys.”
“I also found out that he knew you. I said I’d run across a fellow named Bernie Rhodenbarr and hadn’t he mentioned that name to me once? And he said he might have, though he didn’t recall, but that the two of you had played poker together a few times. So I figured that was why you’d picked this apartment.” She took a deep breath. “Then I decided to come up here. I didn’t know whether you had killed Fran or not. I figured he must have been dead before you got there, that he died because he didn’t receive prompt medical attention and it was my fault. But then there was all that business about the ashtray and I wondered if maybe you had killed him after all. And then you and I met, and I guess it’s obvious I was drawn to you and fascinated by you, and I got involved more deeply than I probably should have. And at the same time I had to play a part. I couldn’t give you my real name or address at the beginning because if you really were the killer and I wanted to bail out, then I was better off if you didn’t know who I was or where to get hold of me. And if the police caught you, you wouldn’t be able to drag me into it.”
“And then you told me your right name because you were afraid I’d catch you in the lie.”
She shook her head. “That’s not it. I just couldn’t stand it when you called me Ruth. I hated it, and when we went to bed and you kept saying my name at critical moments it was absolutely horrible. And I figured you’d