Legacy Of Terror

you who murdered the poor animal,” Lee said, “But it was Denny who put it in the bag.”
    “Dennis?” she asked. She felt her stomach rise, felt her hands begin to tremble as she remembered his paintings and the odd mood he had been in the previous afternoon.
    “Yes,” Lee said. “He found the cat this morning when he went for a walk before beginning his work. It was very early-he gets up quite early many days- and he knew Bess wouldn't be in the kitchen yet. He couldn't think of what to do with Bobo, but he knew that Bess mustn't find the animal. He knew how hurt she would be. Unfortunately, he made a bad choice. And Bess found the body.”
    “But who killed it?” she persisted.
    “Apparently, one of the neighbors,” he said uneasily. “Bobo had a tendency to roam about that wasn't appreciated.”
    “But they would have poisoned him. Or shot him. They wouldn't have stabbed him like that!”
    “It's difficult to know just what people will do,” Lee said. “Many of our neighbors are unfriendly towards us. I believe you met the Bradshaws. Well, they aren't the only people in the neighborhood who would do us a bad turn if they had the chance.”
    “But-”
    “Now,” Lee said, “if you'll excuse me, I really must get back to the ledgers. Rest easy, Elaine. Tomorrow or the next day, Dr. Carter will make a breakthrough with Celia, and all this will be finished with. I'm sorry you arrived in the middle of such a mess.” He went behind his desk, sat down, and began to leaf through a sheaf of papers.
    An hour later, as they sat on the sofa in the main drawing room, Gordon excused himself for the remainder of the evening, pleading work to be done with restaurant invoices. Evidently, he had sensed the mixture of anger, fear and confusion which filled her, for as he took his leave, he bent to her and brushed her cheek with his lips. And he said, “I wish that you would lock your door again tonight and that you would, perhaps, brace it with a chair under the knob.”
    She was so shocked by the kiss, the tender kiss that still lingered on her smooth cheek, that she took some long seconds to find words. She said, at last, “You believed me, then?”
    “I see no reason to disbelieve you.”
    “And your father-?”
    “He is doing what he thinks is right.”
    “Can't you persuade him-”
    He waved his hand, negating what she was about to say. “Elaine, this is all strange business. I do not know really what to believe. I just hope you will lock your door tonight. I shall lock mine, I know!”
    Then he excused himself and left the room, pausing only by the arch to look back at her. There was concern mirrored in his face, a concern that touched her and made her feel quite rich, richer than a queen. Then he was gone. She attempted to will him to stay, to keep the archway filled with him so that she would not be alone. But that was impossible and silly.
    And, in another way, she was just as glad that he was gone-for she did not know whether he would approve of what she intended to do now. When she had seen that Lee Matherly was not going to accept the hard reality of what she was placing before him, she knew that she would have to call Rand whenever she got the chance, even though she did not have Lee's support. Now, as bedtime drew near and she would have to soon look in on Jacob, she realized that the time had come.
    She crossed the room and sat down in the heavy, maroon lounge chair in the corner by the archway. It engulfed her as if it were a living organism, soft and pliable.
    The adding machine clicked and ratcheted in the den.
    The classical music still played upstairs.
    She picked up the telephone from the end table beside the chair and dialed information to obtain the number of the precinct house out of which Captain Rand worked. A moment later, she dialed the police.
    “Desk Sergeant Wilson,” a voice said. “Can I help you?”
    “I'd like to speak to Captain Rand,” she said, with no little amount of effort, her tongue cleaving to the roof of her mouth as if she had just eaten peanut butter.
    “I'm sorry, the Captain is off duty now. Is there anyone else who can help you?”
    “Could I have his home number?”
    “I'm sorry, we don't give out home numbers of our officers. Did you want to make a report or something? If you'd tell me what-”
    Out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone move into the archway from the hall. She turned just far enough to see Dennis Matherly looking down at her.
    “I'm terribly sorry to have bothered you,”