“Are you saying she made this all up? That’s ridiculous.”
“You’ll see,” Frank said.
Tony was suddenly uneasy. Hilary Thomas brought out the chivalrous knight in him; he wanted to protect her. He didn’t want to see her hurt, but Frank apparently had something decidedly unpleasant to discuss with her.
“I’ve got to talk to her now,” Frank said. “I’ll be damned if I’ll stand around cooling my heels while she sucks up to the press.”
Tony put a hand on his partner’s shoulder. “Wait here. I’ll get her.”
Frank was angry about whatever headquarters had told him, and Tony knew the reporters would recognize that anger and be irritated by it. If they thought there was progress in the investigation–especially if it looked to be a juicy bit, a scandalous twist–they would hang around all night, pestering everybody. And if Frank actually had uncovered unflattering information about Hilary Thomas, the press would make headlines out of it, trumpet it with that unholy glee they reserved for choice dirt. Later, if Frank’s information proved inaccurate, the television people most likely wouldn’t make any correction at all, and the newspaper retraction, if there ever was one, would be four lines on page twenty of the second section. Tony wanted her to have an opportunity to refute whatever Frank might say, a chance to clear herself before the whole thing became a tawdry media carnival.
He went to the reporters and said, “Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, but I believe Miss Thomas has already told you more than she’s told us. You’ve squeezed her dry. Now, my partner and I were scheduled to go off duty a few hours ago, and we’re awfully tired. We’ve put in a hard day, beating up innocent suspects and collecting bribes, so if you would let us finish with Miss Thomas, we would be most grateful.”
They laughed appreciatively and began to ask questions of him. He answered a few of them, giving out nothing more than Hilary Thomas had done. Then he hustled the woman into her house and closed the door.
Frank was in the foyer. His anger had not subsided. He looked as if steam should be coming from his ears. “Miss Thomas, I have some more questions to ask you.”
“Okay.”
“Quite a few questions. It’ll take a while.”
“Well … shall we go into the study?”
Frank Howard led the way.
To Tony, Hilary said, “What’s happening?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I wish I did.”
Frank had reached the center of the living room. He stopped and looked back at her. “Miss Thomas?”
She and Tony followed him into the study.
***
Hilary sat on the brushed corduroy couch, crossed her legs, straightened her silk robe. She was nervous, wondering why Lieutenant Howard disliked her so intensely. His manner was cold. He was filled with an icy anger that made his eyes look like cross sections of two steel rods. She thought of Bruno Frye’s strange eyes, and she could not suppress a shiver. Lieutenant Howard glowered at her. She felt like the accused at a trial during the Spanish Inquisition. She would not have been terribly surprised if Howard had pointed a finger and charged her with witchcraft.
The nice one, Lieutenant Clemenza, sat in the brown armchair. The warm amber light from the yellow-shaded floor lamp fell over him and cast soft shadows around his mouth and nose and deeply set eyes, giving him an even gentler and kinder aspect than he ordinarily possessed. She wished he was the one asking questions, but at least for the moment, his role was evidently that of an observer.
Lieutenant Howard stood over her, looked down at her with unconcealed contempt. She realized that he was trying to make her look away in shame or defeat, playing some police version of a childish staring contest. She looked back at him unwaveringly until he turned from her and began to pace.
“Miss Thomas,” Howard said, “there are several things about your story that trouble me.”
“I know,” she said. “It bothers you that I know the assailant. You figure I might have enticed him. Isn’t that conventional police wisdom?”
He blinked in surprise but quickly recovered. “Yes. That’s one thing. And there’s also the fact that we can’t find out how he got into this house. Officer Whitlock and Officer Farmer have been from one end of the place to the other, twice, three times, and they can’t find any sign of forced entry. No broken windows. No smashed or jimmied locks.”