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supposed to be, Loot. Turns out he never was.”
    Mullins looked again at the Norths.
    â€œA screwy thing,” he said, vaguely accusing.
    â€œSergeant Mullins,” Pamela North said. “We don’t even know who you’re talking about. The son of—” She stopped abruptly. “Whoms scare me,” she said. “Whose son?” She looked puzzled. “About whom are you—” she began.
    â€œNever mind, Pam,” Jerry told her, soothingly.
    â€œMrs. Logan’s,” Bill Weigand told both of them. “Go ahead, Mullins.”
    Mullins went ahead. He had not far to go. According to Hilda, the cook, Mrs. Logan’s son had been spending the past week, and was to spend the next, with friends in Maryland. But he was not, had not been. A telephone call disclosed that.
    â€œHe could,” Mullins added, “be anywhere. Around here, likely as not. Figure we should—?”
    â€œNot yet,” Bill told him. “Time enough later.”
    â€œAll the same,” Mullins said, “it’s another screwy one. You can see that, Loot.”
    â€œIt—” Bill began, and then again there was a sound at the door. Aunt Thelma Whitsett came through it, followed by Aunt Pennina Whitsett and Aunt Lucinda Whitsett.
    â€œThis,” Aunt Thelma said, without preamble, “is utter nonsense. These men! ”
    One of the men was behind her. He was a slight, sharp man, with a briefcase under his arm. He looked at the Norths and then at Lieutenant Weigand.
    â€œThe Misses Whitsett’s niece,” Weigand told him. “Mrs. North. Mr. North. This is Assistant District Attorney Thompkins. Homicide Bureau.”
    He looked at Thompkins and waited.
    â€œFor the moment, Miss Whitsett isn’t needed,” he said. “Not by us.” He looked directly at Aunt Thelma Whitsett. “Although,” he said, “I am not convinced that you have been as helpful as you might be. And I don’t want you to leave town.”
    â€œNonsense,” the leading Miss Whitsett said, in her firmest tone. “Tomorrow we are going to Florida.”
    â€œWe’ve got reservations ,” Aunt Lucy said, her face not bright but sad, her voice protesting. “We’re booked .”
    Aunt Pennina said nothing. She sat down and looked at the other two, and at the men. She waited, relaxed.
    â€œIf you try to go you will be,” Assistant District Attorney Thompkins said and then, approving his play on words, “Ha!”
    â€œLieutenant,” Aunt Thelma said, “tell your man not to be absurd.”
    Bill shook his head.
    â€œAs a material witness,” the assistant district attorney said. “All three of you, if necessary.”
    â€œOh Thelma,” Lucy said. “He can! I read somewhere about a poor old man who—”
    â€œNever mind, Lucinda,” Thelma said. “We shall see about this.” She looked, with disapproval, at Thompkins, as if he were a dog without pedigree and of regrettable habits. “I shall consult an attorney.”
    â€œBy all means,” Thompkins said. “I should.” It appeared that Aunt Thelma did not abash him. “And,” he added, “I’ll have the train checked, just in case. What train, Miss Whitsett? Or plane?”
    â€œOh,” Lucinda said, “we never ride planes. We—”
    â€œDon’t be stubborn, Thelma,” Aunt Pennina said, unexpectedly to everybody. “Tell the man.”
    â€œReally, Pennina!” Aunt Thelma said. “Stubborn!” But then she told the man.
    â€œI think now,” Aunt Pennina said, standing up, “that we might go back to the hotel.” She smiled gently at everybody. “I’m afraid,” she said, “it’s quite past our dinner time. And such a trying day.”
    Pam and Jerry went with the aunts; Pam after a moment’s hesitation. As they started for the living room door,