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was not possible for her to keep her normal good spirits from surfacing. “Most of the time I just can't believe it,” she said, “and then I convince myself and I'm outraged.”
    “When was the last time you saw Jane Clippert?” Mulheisen asked.
    “I talked to her just yesterday, when I got in,” she said. “But the last time I saw her was in September, in New York. We wentto school together—Country Day, then later in Switzerland. She went on to Vassar and I went to Berkeley. Since then I've lived a rather different life than hers, but we always kept in touch and saw one another when we were in town together.”
    “Lou and Jane were always the dearest of friends,” said Margaret Spencer, Lou's mother. Mrs. Spencer sat in a chair by the window. “But they were quite different personalities. Jane is—was—not so serious as Lou.”
    “What my mother means, Sergeant,” the girl said with a smile, “is that I spend far too much time doing things like sociological research, instead of marrying and settling down. I suppose this isn't helping you much.”
    “Oh, I don't know,” Mulheisen said. “I'd just like to get some kind of picture of Mrs. Clippert. I need to know how this thing could have happened to her.”
    “Is there a certain kind of person who gets murdered, Sergeant? I didn't know that.”
    Mulheisen bared his teeth. It could have been a smile or a grimace. “It's pretty early to make assumptions, Miss Spencer, but at first glance it appears that she was attacked by a person or persons who were interrupted in the course of a burglary.”
    “Why, it's practically an accident then!”
    “It was hardly an accident that her assailants were in the house,” Mulheisen said. “I mean, she was a wealthy woman and an attractive one. Those are things that might, uh, interest certain types of people. But maybe there were other qualities or aspects to her life that would put a different slant on what happened this morning.”
    “That's not very clear,” the woman said mildly.
    “Harumph!” Mulheisen cleared his throat, thinking he sounded like Major Hoople. Stop beating around the bush, he told himself. “Do you think she might have had . . . a lover?”
    “What?” exclaimed Mrs. Spencer, shocked.
    Lou Spencer was thoughtful. “I'm not sure,” she said.
    “Lou! The idea!” snapped her mother.
    The girl ignored her. “I think Jane had changed quite a bit in the past couple years. She struck me as being more withdrawn,quieter. There was a time, though, when she certainly did have lovers. I thought she was rather a sensual woman, Sergeant.”
    “Really? Do you happen to know who her, uh, lover might have been?”
    “I didn't say she had one—recently, that is. But a woman who looks like Jane always has men hanging around her. Especially if they are lonely, and more especially if they are rich. You know the cliché of busy men's wives.” She caught herself. “Well, I really don't know much about her private life, not lately.”
    “Tell me about the past, then,” Mulheisen suggested.
    “I think the Sergeant might enjoy a drink, Mother. Whiskey, perhaps?”
    “Ah, sure,” Mulheisen said. “Bourbon is fine, with a little ice and water.”
    Mrs. Spencer knew her cue and left. Lou began to drift slowly about the room, touching things. Mulheisen watched her with interest. She was an attractive woman, he thought.
    “I can't imagine what Jane did in that big house all day,” she said. “She used to read some, the latest novels. She was a good athlete, terrific at tennis.”
    “But in the winter . . .” Mulheisen prompted.
    “They used to go south, Florida or the West Indies. They have a lovely place up north, though. Not too far from Boyne Mountain, I think. They may have gone there to ski. She was a very good skier in school, in Switzerland. She had her first love affair on the slopes, so to speak. A skiing instructor, naturally. It's appallingly common. He was an older man. At least,