Time Off for Murder Read Online Free
Author: Zelda Popkin
door in the partition. Mary heard the distant ringing of a telephone, the muffled sound of a masculine voice, answering the phone, then the man's voice and a girl's voice in colloquy. Then the door opened. The receptionist came in and behind her a stocky man with waxen face, yellow-dyed by either fading summer tan or jaundice, a freckled bald head, like a brown egg, and unhappy eyes behind a pince-nez.
  "I'm Mister Struthers." The man surveyed Miss Carner. The inspection seemed to reassure him, for he added, almost politely: "Please step inside."
  He led the way to a window-less cubicle which held a book-case, a typewriter desk and swivel seat, and a single straight-backed chair. An electric light burned dismally below the ceiling. "This is my private office."
  Through an open doorway, Miss Carner could see a spacious, sunny room, a wide desk, easy chairs, corner windows spreading a panorama of water and sky, of undulating hills of Staten Island, of ships ploughing toward the sea. Mr. Struthers followed her gaze, and got up to close the connecting door. "Miss Knight does not care to have her office entered in her absence," he said stiffly. He pulled out the straight-backed chair for Mary Carner. He clasped his hands, put them up on a corner of his desk.
  "Now then," he said. "What is it you wish?"
  "I? Nothing but to get in touch with Miss Knight."
  Struthers smiled wryly. "I share your wish," he said. "You're the person who has been calling up, are you not?"
  "I'm Mary Carner, Miss Knight's friend."
  "May I ask what makes you so concerned over her absence?"
  "I've told you that on the phone. She didn't appear at our luncheon. I knew she had been ill. I thought she might be ill again." She paused, considered what she was about to say, watched his face, as she said: "I'm a detective, Mister Struthers. That's my business." Was it illusion that the man paled and his fingers twitched? "Not police. Department store," she added quickly.
  "Oh." He seemed relieved. "What makes you feel," he said, with what seemed to be eagerness, "that there's anything wrong about Miss Knight's absence?"
  "A sixth sense, possibly." She smiled to reassure him. "I gathered you were worried too." She fumbled in her bag. "Do you mind if I smoke?"
  "Miss Knight doesn't like it. Since her illness, she claims smoke irritates her throat. I've stopped it myself. I like a cigar once in a while. I've given that up, too. She might come in while you're here and she'd be annoyed."
  Mary dropped her cigarette case back into her handbag. "You certainly follow instructions," she began. Then she halted, realizing the import of what he had said. "You're expecting Miss Knight back any moment, aren't you?"
  "Why, certainly," Ben Struthers answered. "She has work to do. She has a title closing here this afternoon at four. She has to be in court tomorrow at ten. She's given me no instructions to change those appointments."
  "When did she make the appointments?"
  "Last week. Before she left."
  "This is Monday. You've had no word from her since last Wednesday and yet you expect her to keep her appointments?"
  "I do. Miss Knight always keeps her appointments."
  "She didn't keep them Thursday, or Friday or Saturday, did she?"
  "No." Struthers seemed reluctant to make the admission. "It was most troublesome. We - Miss Getch and I - that's Miss Knight's clerk - did the best we could. We put people off. It was very difficult. There's one default judgment - Oh, that'll be a headache, that will. I do wish she'd get back."
  "Yet when she left here Wednesday, she gave you no hint that she was changing her plans? No notion of where she was going?"
  "Why, certainly." Was that a shadow of a smile on Struthers' face? "She told me where she was going. She said she was going to the movies."
  Now that was
  "I'm Mister Struthers." The man surveyed Miss Carner. The inspection seemed to reassure him, for he added, almost politely: "Please step inside."
  He led the way to a window-less cubicle which held a book-case, a typewriter desk and swivel seat, and a single straight-backed chair. An electric light burned dismally below the ceiling. "This is my private office."
  Through an open doorway, Miss Carner could see a spacious, sunny room, a wide desk, easy chairs, corner windows spreading a panorama of water and sky, of undulating hills of Staten Island, of ships ploughing toward the sea. Mr. Struthers followed her gaze, and got up to close the connecting door. "Miss Knight does not care to have her office entered in her absence," he said stiffly. He pulled out the straight-backed chair for Mary Carner. He clasped his hands, put them up on a corner of his desk.
  "Now then," he said. "What is it you wish?"
  "I? Nothing but to get in touch with Miss Knight."
  Struthers smiled wryly. "I share your wish," he said. "You're the person who has been calling up, are you not?"
  "I'm Mary Carner, Miss Knight's friend."
  "May I ask what makes you so concerned over her absence?"
  "I've told you that on the phone. She didn't appear at our luncheon. I knew she had been ill. I thought she might be ill again." She paused, considered what she was about to say, watched his face, as she said: "I'm a detective, Mister Struthers. That's my business." Was it illusion that the man paled and his fingers twitched? "Not police. Department store," she added quickly.
  "Oh." He seemed relieved. "What makes you feel," he said, with what seemed to be eagerness, "that there's anything wrong about Miss Knight's absence?"
  "A sixth sense, possibly." She smiled to reassure him. "I gathered you were worried too." She fumbled in her bag. "Do you mind if I smoke?"
  "Miss Knight doesn't like it. Since her illness, she claims smoke irritates her throat. I've stopped it myself. I like a cigar once in a while. I've given that up, too. She might come in while you're here and she'd be annoyed."
  Mary dropped her cigarette case back into her handbag. "You certainly follow instructions," she began. Then she halted, realizing the import of what he had said. "You're expecting Miss Knight back any moment, aren't you?"
  "Why, certainly," Ben Struthers answered. "She has work to do. She has a title closing here this afternoon at four. She has to be in court tomorrow at ten. She's given me no instructions to change those appointments."
  "When did she make the appointments?"
  "Last week. Before she left."
  "This is Monday. You've had no word from her since last Wednesday and yet you expect her to keep her appointments?"
  "I do. Miss Knight always keeps her appointments."
  "She didn't keep them Thursday, or Friday or Saturday, did she?"
  "No." Struthers seemed reluctant to make the admission. "It was most troublesome. We - Miss Getch and I - that's Miss Knight's clerk - did the best we could. We put people off. It was very difficult. There's one default judgment - Oh, that'll be a headache, that will. I do wish she'd get back."
  "Yet when she left here Wednesday, she gave you no hint that she was changing her plans? No notion of where she was going?"
  "Why, certainly." Was that a shadow of a smile on Struthers' face? "She told me where she was going. She said she was going to the movies."
  Now that was
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