“I’d like to come in and talk to you a few minutes,” going in as I spoke, closing the door behind me.
She didn’t say anything. She went up the steps in front of me, her head twisted around so she could watch me with her scary eyes.
We went into a scantily furnished living room. Dinah’s house could be seen from its windows.
The girl stood in the center of the floor, her hands still to her mouth.
I wasted time and words trying to convince her that I was harmless. It was no good. Everything I said seemed to increase her panic. It was a damned nuisance. I quit trying, and got down to business.
“You are Robert Albury’s sister?” I asked.
No reply, nothing but the senseless look of utter fear.
I said:
“After he was arrested for killing Donald Willsson you took this flat so you could watch her. What for?”
Not a word from her. I had to supply my own answer:
“Revenge. You blamed Dinah Brand for your brother’s trouble. You watched for your chance. It came the night before last. You sneaked into her house, found her drunk, stabbed her with the ice pick you found there.”
She didn’t say anything. I hadn’t succeeded in jolting the blankness out of her frightened face. I said:
“Dawn helped you, engineered it for you. He wanted Elihu Willsson’s letters. Who was the man he sent to get them, the man who did the actual killing? Who was he?”