Murderers' Row

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Book: Read Murderers' Row for Free Online
Authors: Donald Hamilton
face, instead of something cute and indeterminate. She had a real mouth with real teeth—strong, white ones— and real eyes with real eyebrows. She was herself. It takes a certain amount of guts, these days. But it was no time to stand gawking at handsome ladies.
    â€œMurderer?” I said sharply. “Who’s a murderer? You can’t pin anything like that on me!” I whirled on Crowell. “Listen, what kind of an identification do you call this? I’ve got a right to a proper line-up—”
    â€œI’m trying very hard to protect your rights, Mr. Peters,” the white-haired man told me. “I asked you to go into the other office, remember? You refused.” He turned to the newcomers. “You’re sure, Mrs. Rosten?”
    â€œQuite sure.”
    â€œAnd you, Mr. Rosten?”
    The man hesitated. He’d been at the pool, too; a dark, well-built chap with gray at the temples, very distinguished in appearance. Like the woman, he had the smooth rich tan you get by working at that and not much else. He also had the air of a man who’d achieved nothing in life except marrying money.
    â€œI—I don’t really know,” he said.
    â€œOf course you do, Louis,” he was told by his wife. “Why, there’s no possible doubt. That’s the man!”
    â€œI was looking the other way,” he said uncertainly. “Also, I was freezing. I was just vaguely aware that Teddy had gone over to get a light from somebody walking by—”
    â€œVaguely!” she snapped. “Well, that’s typical!”
    He flushed, drew himself up, and turned stiffly to Crowell. “I’m afraid I can’t help you, officer. As I told you before, I never got a good look at him. I don’t think Billy did, either. He was still in the pool, showing off the stroke that brought victory to dear old Whatsis only a few years back.”
    â€œBilly?” Crowell consulted a notebook. “That would be Mr. William Orcutt, the other lady’s escort?”
    â€œYes, I told you. He’s a local boy—the Annapolis Orcutts, you know. As a matter of fact, he’s my wife’s nephew. We drafted him to entertain our little visitor for the evening. We had dinner at home, and then some vigorous person suggested a swim—”
    â€œYou did, Louis,” Mrs. Rosten said.
    â€œI did not, my dear. I thought it was a ridiculous idea, considering the weather, but I was out-voted—Anyway, Sergeant, our pool has been drained, so we came to the motel, changed in Teddy’s room, and exposed ourselves to the elements briefly. Then the kids jumped into their clothes and went on to some fascinating place Billy knew about—unfortunately, I’ve forgotten the name. We dressed more slowly and called home for a car, but if it ever arrived, it got lost in the confusion. Maybe you know something about it?”
    â€œI’ll check. Don’t worry about it, sir. We’ll see that you get home all right.”
    Mrs. Rosten said, “I suppose you’ll want a statement or something. I’ll be glad to sign it; but would you mind terribly if we got started on it?”
    â€œRight away, ma’am. I—” He stopped, as the young policeman who’d brought in the Rostens came back into the office. “What is it, Egan?”
    Egan stepped up and whispered something in Crowell’s ear. Crowell nodded.
    â€œExcuse me, ma’am,” he said to Mrs. Rosten, and he turned to me. “This way—”
    I trotted out my Petroni act. He paid no attention to it, but marched me back down a hall to a smaller room that looked like a waiting room with wooden chairs set along the walls. The room was empty, which surprised me. I’d expected another confrontation. Crowell gestured towards a chair and we sat down facing a door that had opaque glass in the upper half. At least it was opaque from our side. This made more

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