“We have a search warrant,” said Angeli.
Judd stared at him incredulously. “A search warrant? For my apartment?”
“Suppose we ask the questions, Doctor,” McGreavy said.
“You don’t have to answer them,” interjected Angeli, “without benefit of legal counsel. Also, you should know that anything you say can be used as evidence against you.”
“Do you want to call a lawyer?” McGreavy asked.
“I don’t need a lawyer. I told you that I loaned the raincoat to John Hanson this morning and I didn’t see it again until you brought it to my office this afternoon. I couldn’t have killed him. I was with patients all day. Miss Roberts can verify that.”
McGreavy and Angeli exchanged a silent signal.
“Where did you go after you left your office this afternoon?” Angeli asked.
“To see Mrs. Hanson.”
“We know that,” McGreavy said. “Afterward.”
Judd hesitated. “I drove around.”
“Where?”
“I drove up to Connecticut.”
“Where did you stop for dinner?” McGreavy asked.
“I didn’t. I wasn’t hungry.”
“So no one saw you?”
Judd thought a moment. “I suppose not.”
“Perhaps you stopped for gas somewhere,” suggested Angeli.
“No,” Judd said. “I didn’t. What difference does it make where I went tonight? Hanson was killed this morning.”
“Did you go back to your office any time after you left it this afternoon?” McGreavy’s voice was casual.
“No,” Judd said. “Why?”
“It was broken into.”
“What? By whom?”
“We don’t know,” said McGreavy. “I want you to come down and take a look around. You can tell us if anything is missing.”
“Of course,” Judd replied. “Who reported it?”
“The night watchman,” said Angeli. “Do you keep anything of value in the office, Doctor? Cash? Drugs? Anything like that?”
“Petty cash,” Judd said. “No addictive drugs. There was nothing there to steal. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Right,” McGreavy said. “Let’s go.”
In the elevator Eddie gave Judd an apologetic look. Judd met his eyes and nodded that he understood.
Surely, Judd thought, the police couldn’t suspect him of breaking into his own office. It was as though McGreavy was determined to pin something on him because of his dead partner. But that had been five years ago. Could McGreavy have been brooding all these years, blaming it on the doctor? Waiting for a chance to get him?
There was an unmarked police car a few feet from the entrance. They got in and rode to the office in silence.
When they reached the office building, Judd signed the lobby register. Bigelow, the guard, looked at him strangely. Or did he imagine it?
They took the elevator to the fifteenth floor and walked down the corridor to Judd’s office. A uniformed policeman was standing in front of the door. He nodded to McGreavy and stepped aside. Judd reached for his key.
“The door’s unlocked,” Angeli said. He pushed the door open and they went in, Judd leading the way.
The reception office was in chaos. All the drawers had been pulled out of the desk and papers were strewn about the floor. Judd stared unbelievingly, feeling a shock of personal violation.
“What do you suppose they were looking for, Doctor?” asked McGreavy.
“I have no idea,” Judd said. He walked to the inner door and opened it, McGreavy close behind him.
In his office two end tables had been overturned, a smashed lamp lay on the floor, and blood soaked the Fields rug.
In the far corner of the room, grotesquely spread out, was the body of Carol Roberts. She was nude. Her hands were tied behind her back with piano wire, and acid had been splashed on her face and breasts and between her thighs. The fingers of her right hand were broken. Her face was battered and swollen. A wadded handkerchief was stuffed in her mouth.
The two detectives watched Judd as he stared at the body.
“You look pale,” Angeli said. “Sit down.”
Judd shook his head and took several deep breaths. When he spoke, his voice was shaking with rage. “Who—who could have done this?”
“That’s what you’re going to tell us, Dr. Stevens,” said McGreavy.
Judd looked up at him. “No one could have wanted to do this to Carol. She never hurt anyone in her life.”