The Seventh Commandment Read Online Free PDF Page A

should have remembered," Clayton said, "but I've had a lot on my mind. Father's death and all…"
    "Of course."
    "Suppose you take a raise of fifty thousand a year until you retire. With your pension, that should give you a nice nest egg."
    The CFO was shocked. "Thank you, Mister Clayton," he said finally.
    "You deserve it. And Sol, stop worrying about the gold business. Trust me."
    After Guthrie left his office, Clayton put his cigar carefully aside and called Turner Pierce. The phone was lifted after the sixth ring.
    "Hello?"
    "Turner? Clayton Starrett."
    "How are you, Clay? I was just thinking about you. I saw Ramon last night, and there have been some interesting developments."
    "Turner, I've got to see you as soon as possible."
    "Oh? A problem?"
    "It could be," Clayton said.

Chapter 5
    Dora Conti, listing to port under the weight of an overstuffed shoulder bag, was admitted to the Starrett apartment at 2:30 P.M. The door was opened by a tall, bowed man she assumed was the butler, identified in newspaper clippings as Charles Hawkins.
    He didn't look like a Fifth Avenue butler to her, or valet, footman, or even scullion. He seemed all elbows and knees, his gaunt cheeks were pitted, and a lock of dank, black hair flopped across his forehead. He was wearing a shiny gray alpaca jacket, black serge trousers just as shiny, and Space Shoes.
    "Dora Conti," she said, "to see Mrs. Olivia Starrett. I have an appointment."
    "Madam is waiting," he said in a sepulchral whisper, and held out his arms to her.
    For one awful instant she thought he meant to embrace her, then realized he merely wanted to take her coat. She whipped off her scarf and struggled out of her heavy loden parka. He took them with the tips of his fingers, and she followed his flat-footed shuffle down a long corridor to the living room.
    This high-ceilinged chamber seemed crowded with a plethora of chintz- and cretonne-covered chairs and couches, all in floral patterns: roses, poppies, lilies, iris, camellias. It was like entering a hothouse; only the scent was missing.
    A man and a woman were sharing a love seat when Dora came into the room. The man stood immediately. He was wearing a double-breasted suit of dove-gray flannel, with a black silk dickey and a white clerical collar.
    "Good afternoon," Dora said briskly. "I am Dora Conti, and as I explained on the phone, I am your insurance claims adjuster. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice."
    "Of course," the man said with a smile of what Dora considered excessive warmth. "I hope you won't be offended if I ask to see your credentials."
    She made no reply, but dug her ID out of the shoulder bag, handed him card and letter of authorization.
    He examined them carefully, then returned them, his smile still in place. "Thank you," he said. "You must understand my caution; so many newspaper reporters have attempted to interview family members under a variety of pretexts that we've become somewhat distrustful. My name is Brian Callaway."
    "Father Brian Callaway," the woman on the settee said, "and I am Olivia Starrett."
    "Ma'am," Dora said, "first of all I'd like to express my condolences on the death of your husband."
    "Oh, he didn't die," the woman said. "He passed into the divine harmony. My, what beautiful hair you have!"
    "Thank you."
    "And do construction workers whistle at you and shout, 'Hey, red!?"
    "No," Dora said. "They usually whistle and shout, 'Hey, fatso'!"
    Olivia Starrett laughed, a warbling sound. "Men can be so cruel," she said. "You are certainly not fat. Plump perhaps-wouldn't you say, Father?"
    "Pleasingly," he said.
    "Now then," the widow said, patting the cushion beside her, "you come sit next to me, and we'll have a nice chat."
    She was a heavy-bodied woman herself, with a motherly softness. Her complexion was a creamy velvet, and her eyes seemed widened in an expression of continual surprise. Silvery hair was drawn back in a chignon and tied with a girlish ribbon. Her hands were