The Case Has Altered Read Online Free PDF Page A

and she put a hand to her cheek. “Dead? Dorcas?” Her eyes were wide; she had to lean on the arm of the sofa. “Dorcas?” she repeated. She looked up at Bannen as if she hoped he might refute this.
    Bannen drank his coffee, looked at her over the edge of the cup, looked as if wishing he could take it all back. But he didn’t. He waited for the cook to compose herself a bit, then asked, “Did you see Dorcas around dinnertime last evening?”
    â€œWell, of course I did.” Back to the business of running a house. “She peeled the vegetables, cut them up, like always. Then we had our tea and she did the serving.”
    â€œDid Dorcas tell you whether she was going to the Case Has Altered?”
    â€œNo, she didn’t. But that’s where she usually does go. Too often, to my way of thinking.” The chiding mentor part of her nature took firm grip and she drew herself up again, hands folded over her ample stomach. “Last I saw of Dorcas—nineish, it was. I was just arguing with her about the washing up, for dinner would soon be finished. More like nine-thirty, then. That’s supposed to be Dorcas’s job, but—” Mrs. Suggins’s face flushed brightly and she put her hand to her cheek. “Dead? I can’t quite take that in. Anyway, Dorcas was eager to leave, well, I didn’t mind doing it. There was only the three of them—”
    â€œThe Owens and Mr. Price?”
    She nodded. “When I was finished, I went up to bed. I’d promised myself an early night.” Then, apparently in anticipation of Bannen’s next question, she went on: “There’s no use asking me what they did, for I’ve no idea.” And of yet the next: “And, no, I’ve no idea of anyone who disliked Dorcas, disliked or liked. She was so bland, Dorcas was. Not much starch to her; not much ginger. She whined a lot, you know, kind of felt sorry for herself.”
    â€œWhat about boyfriends? Anyone serious?”
    â€œDorcas?” The cook gave a humorless laugh. “Nothing much going there. I hate to say it, but Dorcas wouldn’t be the type to attract the men. No, too plain, not pretty at all. Oh, she talked about men, her being just a mite man-crazy, but I didn’t listen to half. Except—”
    â€œWhat?” prompted Bannen.
    â€œIt was just that lately, she’d got into a real good mood, but that changed all of a sudden and she went sour. Depressed, or like that. Well, that made me think there was some man in the picture.” Mrs. Sugginsshook her head. “Oh, but to see the poor girl murdered. Well, it doesn’t make sense.”
    â€œI didn’t say she’d been murdered,” said Bannen, with that off-centered smile.
    Mrs. Suggins looked at him blankly.
    â€œThanks very much, Mrs. Suggins. Now, if you could have another look for Mrs. Owen, I’d very much appreciate it.”
    The cook sighed and turned away. “I’ll try. But if Suggins hasn’t found her by now, no telling where she might have got to.”
    As she left, Bannen drew a small notebook from his pocket and was thumbing the pages. “I want to call HQ. If you’ll excuse me.”
    Jury took this as a request for privacy and wandered out into the hall.
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    W hile Bannen was speaking to someone at headquarters in Lincoln, Jury looked at the bronze busts set into alcoves, a Sheraton escritoire, and a large semicircular sideboard with a mahogany veneer.
    Directly across from the doorway through which he had come was another with the same wide double doors, open. The room was bathed in shadows because the curtains were drawn. He supposed it was a sort of gallery; given the paintings lining the left wall. But the most interesting thing about the room was the collection of life-size statues assembled in no particular way. They were marble, the sort of thing one found ordinarily in a