The Darkness Knows Read Online Free Page B

rounds at the station. She hadn’t done anything untoward, yet everyone believed she had. So it was strange, uncomfortably intimate somehow, to be here with him now—in his office at night—even though Graham sat right beside her.
    At the same time, she was glad Mr. Hart was here. If anyone could handle an awful situation like this, it would be him.
    â€œThe police are here,” Mr. Hart said. “They’re…taking care of things.” The slight quaver in his voice was anything but reassuring.
    â€œThe police are here?” Graham stood up. “They’ll want to question us.”
    â€œVivian, at least.”
    Graham rubbed his hands on the front of his trousers and glanced at the closed door. “I think I’ll go see if I can be of help,” he said. He sprang for the door, reaching it in two long strides. As he grasped the doorknob, he turned back to Vivian. “You’ll be all right here with Mr. Hart,” he said. Before she could protest, he was gone.
    Vivian shook her head and watched the door close behind him. She could see where she ranked in the grand scheme of things as far as Graham was concerned—somewhere below Harvey Diamond and the entire Chicago Police Department.
    Mr. Hart had also gotten up from his seat and was pacing back and forth between his desk and the floor-to-ceiling windows on the opposite wall. All they afforded him was a view of the mammoth brick structure of the Morrison directly across the street. Silhouettes flitted across the Roman shades in some of the hotel windows.
    â€œThis is horrible,” he said in a low voice, shifting his gaze to the street below. “Just horrible. It’s all gone wrong.”
    Vivian made a vague noise of agreement in her throat. A dead woman in the lounge—something had gone horribly wrong indeed. She straightened her skirt, smoothing it over her knees. She slipped her feet back into her shoes, wondering which man had taken them off.
    â€œI’m feeling much better, Mr. Hart,” she said, anxious to remove herself from this awkward situation. Mr. Hart was clearly not himself. “I think I’ll just—”
    He turned sharply and fixed her with such a bewildered expression that she paused midsentence.
    â€œâ€”walk around a bit,” she finished in a faltering voice. “Clear my head.”
    â€œNo, no,” he said, looking down at the polished leather of his shoes. “This won’t do at all… The police will want to question you first thing.” He glanced out the window and then back to Vivian.
    â€œOf course,” she said, confused.
    She sat for a minute in silence as Mr. Hart continued wearing a path in the carpet: from the desk to the windows, the windows to the desk.
    â€œWere you here when it…it happened? Did you see anything—the person that could have done this?” Vivian glanced at the ashtray on his desk where the remnants of something still smoldered. That wasn’t cigar smoke in the air.
    â€œI was working late, but I didn’t notice anything unusual.” He turned from the window briefly to glance at her, then turned back before adding, “Until I heard you scream, that is.”
    Vivian felt the color drain from her face as the image of Marjorie’s dead body popped into her mind. She didn’t remember screaming.
    â€œDo you need anything?” she asked. She had been the one who fainted, but Mr. Hart seemed to be the one who needed support. “A drink?” When he didn’t answer, she continued in a small voice, “I’ll just go out and see if I can be of help to the police then, shall I?”
    Mr. Hart grunted. “Yes, yes, go see what you can do.” He turned to look at her and attempted a smile.
    Vivian took another sip of the brandy and then set it on the side table. She left Mr. Hart staring silently out of the window at the lights of the city.
    â€¢ • •
    The whole