Catch a Falling Knife

said. “I almost flunked beginning physics in college.”
    “Do you want to be a scientist?” Albert asked Donna.
    “Well, I’ve been told I have an aptitude for science. And that more women should go into it.” She paused, reflecting. “But I’d like to become a writer.”
    “What do you like to write?” Mark asked.
    “I write short stories and poetry. But if I could do what I really wanted I would be a lyricist.”
    “You mean a song lyricist?”
    “Yes. As I was telling Dr. Morgan, I wrote a bunch of songs for a musical review presented by Citrus Heights College last fall.”
    “Some of which were sung by Elise,” I said.
    “How long had you two known each other?” Albert asked.
    “Since the beginning of the last school year, when Elise was a freshman and I was a sophomore. We both lived in the dorm, but we became friends because we had common interests. And then we decided to get an apartment together for this school year.”
    “I would guess that the demand for lyricists is not great,” Sandra said, not unkindly. “I’ve written some poetry in my time and I can tell you that you can’t make a living as a poet.”
    Donna sighed. “How true. Of course it’s also difficult to make a living as a singer, but Elise sang with a rock group last summer—a Christian rock group—and was going to have the lead in our May musical. At least she was getting some recognition.”
    “Mark has written some poetry too,” Albert said.
    “Yes, but Mark can do everything,” Sandra said, “so he doesn’t count.”
    Sometimes it did seem as if Mark could do everything. “Donna brought a book of her compositions with her,” I said. I had asked her to do that. “Perhaps she can read some of them to those of us who are on dish duty.”
    Before she had a chance to do that the conversation shifted to the murder. Fortunately, we had all finished eating. Sandra told Winston to go play with his car in the family room where she could keep an eye on him but he wouldn’t follow the conversation. He sat in the plastic car, supplied car noises with his voice and power with his feet as he practiced steering and driving forward and backward. He would be asking for a real car in another few years.
    Donna retold the story of how she had found Elise. Although she had told it a few times already it was still traumatic for her and she had to pause to avoid being overcome by emotion as she recalled the events of that evening. Sandra gasped when she heard about the amount of blood on Elise and the bedclothes, Albert looked grim and Mark pressed his lips tightly together.
    “We know Mark couldn’t have done it,” Sandra said when Donna had finished. “He knows how to pick locks.” The looks she got prompted Sandra to continue, “Well, you picked the lock of the apartment of that woman at Silver Acres last year.”
    “I asked him to,” I said, quickly, “and before Donna gets the impression that she has fallen into a gang of thieves let me add that we were trying to solve another murder.”
    “Did solve another murder,” Albert said, “but remember that you said you were going to retire from being a detective.”
    I had promised with my fingers crossed, but to keep the peace I said, “All I’m doing right now is trying to help Mark.”
    “According to the newspaper accounts,” Sandra said to Donna, “you must have just missed the murderer. Elise hadn’t been dead long when you got there.”
    “No,” Donna said. Then she blurted out, “I may have seen his car.”
    We became suddenly quiet, waiting for her to say more.
    “As I went up the walk to the door of the apartment I saw…I saw a car pull away from the curb and drive away. The driver seemed to be in a hurry.”
    “Had you seen the car before?” Albert asked. “Do you know what make it was?”
    “It was dark, of course, and I didn’t get a good look, but…I don’t think I’d seen it before. It was a compact, but I’m not sure what make it was, either.”
    “Another reason it couldn’t be Mark,” Sandra said, “is because he doesn’t own a carving knife. Or any other knife, for that matter. In fact, he didn’t own much of anything when he moved in with me.”
    It sounded as if Sandra was trying to protect her turf—meaning Mark—from Donna. That was good news to me. If this kind of talk bothered Donna, she didn’t show it.
    Albert and Sandra wanted to know about other possible suspects because the papers hadn’t yet mentioned