Time Off for Murder Read Online Free Page A
Author: Zelda Popkin
preposterous! A busy attorney had walked out of her office, announcing she was going to the movies, and had been gone for nearly a week. Was the man joking? No, apparently not. His expression was serious, anxious even.
  "What movies?" Mary asked sharply.
  "I have no idea."
  "Was she alone?"
  "I believe so."
  "Was she to meet anyone?"
  A brief hesitation. "I could not say. Miss Knight does not tell me her personal affairs."
  "Have you been in touch with her house? Have you suggested that they notify the authorities to search for her? Have you spoken to her father?"
  Distress cut deep lines alongside Mr. Struthers' nose. His words were tangled in a stutter. "I don't know whether you know it, Miss,- Miss Knight wouldn't like me to discuss her family - her housekeeper is a bit difficult."
  "I've found that out."
  "All I've been able to get out of her is that Miss Knight hasn't been home since she left her residence Wednesday morning. I haven't been able to talk to her father at all."
  "Did she leave any writing, any papers, any letters that might indicate her plans? Anything on her desk? In her desk?"
  "Miss Knight is very meticulous. She clears up all current matters before she leaves. She never leaves anything on her desk. It's locked. It's always locked. She has the keys with her."
  "Could you show me her appointment sheet?"
  Struthers stiffened. "Of course not. I would not dream of revealing the details of Miss Knight's business to anyone."
  "I hope," said Miss Carner gravely, "you'll not have to reveal them to the police."
  Again the pallor, deepening under the ecru skin. But Struthers was silent. Miss Carner picked up her purse. "Then there's nothing we can do but wait."
  The furrow creased Struthers' face again. "I trust she will return today," he said. "There's the payroll, her appointments. There are so many things â¦"
  The telephone rang at that moment, and the secretary lifted the receiverâ¦. "John 8 - Yes, this is Ben Struthersâ¦. Yesâ¦. Yes, Mister Rorkeâ¦No, Mister Rorkeâ¦. Yes, Mister Rorke, I will inform her." He hung the receiver up.
  Mary said: "Mister Rorke is anxious, too?"
  "He has telephoned every day."
  "May I ask who Mister Rorke is?"
  "Miss Knight has not informed me. I do not feel free to speculate about her acquaintances."
  Miss Carner stood up. "You're very well trained," she said. "To mind Miss Knight's business and your own."
  A faint pink colored Struthers' face. "I try to," he said. "I wish Miss Knight to be satisfied. I trust, Miss, I have allayed your curiosity."
  "Quite the contrary," Miss Carner answered. "Quite the opposite."
  Mr. Struthers shrugged his shoulders wearily. "There's nothing else I can do. Nothing I can say."
  Washington Square had shut its windows, turned on its oil burners against the sharp wind, blowing north by west across the Hudson. Busses and motor cars rolled, dark and secretive, past the deserted benches of the park, past pedestrians, scurrying like the autumn leaves, blown by the wind; past solitary dogwalkers, shivering at the curbs.
  Lamp light glowed behind the diaphanous window curtains of the Square. In the high, gracious rooms of sedate brick houses, chairs were drawn up before open fires. Their hospitable warmth seemed to pass through their curtained windows, and hurrying by them, Mary Carner opened a button of her topcoat. Then, she caught herself buttoning it again and unbuttoning it and she said to herself: "I'm nervous. Why am I so nervous? What's to be afraid of? I'm merely going to Phyllis' house. This is New York. It's eight o'clock. There's nothing to be afraid of. Nothing can happen to you on a New York street at eight o'clock."
  A young man, with a wire-haired terrier on leash, cut in front of her,
  "What movies?" Mary asked sharply.
  "I have no idea."
  "Was she alone?"
  "I believe so."
  "Was she to meet anyone?"
  A brief hesitation. "I could not say. Miss Knight does not tell me her personal affairs."
  "Have you been in touch with her house? Have you suggested that they notify the authorities to search for her? Have you spoken to her father?"
  Distress cut deep lines alongside Mr. Struthers' nose. His words were tangled in a stutter. "I don't know whether you know it, Miss,- Miss Knight wouldn't like me to discuss her family - her housekeeper is a bit difficult."
  "I've found that out."
  "All I've been able to get out of her is that Miss Knight hasn't been home since she left her residence Wednesday morning. I haven't been able to talk to her father at all."
  "Did she leave any writing, any papers, any letters that might indicate her plans? Anything on her desk? In her desk?"
  "Miss Knight is very meticulous. She clears up all current matters before she leaves. She never leaves anything on her desk. It's locked. It's always locked. She has the keys with her."
  "Could you show me her appointment sheet?"
  Struthers stiffened. "Of course not. I would not dream of revealing the details of Miss Knight's business to anyone."
  "I hope," said Miss Carner gravely, "you'll not have to reveal them to the police."
  Again the pallor, deepening under the ecru skin. But Struthers was silent. Miss Carner picked up her purse. "Then there's nothing we can do but wait."
  The furrow creased Struthers' face again. "I trust she will return today," he said. "There's the payroll, her appointments. There are so many things â¦"
  The telephone rang at that moment, and the secretary lifted the receiverâ¦. "John 8 - Yes, this is Ben Struthersâ¦. Yesâ¦. Yes, Mister Rorkeâ¦No, Mister Rorkeâ¦. Yes, Mister Rorke, I will inform her." He hung the receiver up.
  Mary said: "Mister Rorke is anxious, too?"
  "He has telephoned every day."
  "May I ask who Mister Rorke is?"
  "Miss Knight has not informed me. I do not feel free to speculate about her acquaintances."
  Miss Carner stood up. "You're very well trained," she said. "To mind Miss Knight's business and your own."
  A faint pink colored Struthers' face. "I try to," he said. "I wish Miss Knight to be satisfied. I trust, Miss, I have allayed your curiosity."
  "Quite the contrary," Miss Carner answered. "Quite the opposite."
  Mr. Struthers shrugged his shoulders wearily. "There's nothing else I can do. Nothing I can say."
  Washington Square had shut its windows, turned on its oil burners against the sharp wind, blowing north by west across the Hudson. Busses and motor cars rolled, dark and secretive, past the deserted benches of the park, past pedestrians, scurrying like the autumn leaves, blown by the wind; past solitary dogwalkers, shivering at the curbs.
  Lamp light glowed behind the diaphanous window curtains of the Square. In the high, gracious rooms of sedate brick houses, chairs were drawn up before open fires. Their hospitable warmth seemed to pass through their curtained windows, and hurrying by them, Mary Carner opened a button of her topcoat. Then, she caught herself buttoning it again and unbuttoning it and she said to herself: "I'm nervous. Why am I so nervous? What's to be afraid of? I'm merely going to Phyllis' house. This is New York. It's eight o'clock. There's nothing to be afraid of. Nothing can happen to you on a New York street at eight o'clock."
  A young man, with a wire-haired terrier on leash, cut in front of her,
Readers choose
Shannon Esposito
Nick S. Thomas
M.J. Harris
Agatha Christie
Charity Parkerson
Shelena Shorts
Viola Grace
Al Sarrantonio
Jacki Delecki
John McQuaid