Read Online Death of a Tall Man by Frances Lockridge - Free Book Online Page A

When she reached him, he stood aside to let her pass. In the inner office, she did not look at the body, still sprawled across the desk. She looked beyond the body, out of the window behind the desk. But it was not as if she saw anything through the window.
    It was shock, Bill Weigand thought. Rather severe shock. Natural enough, but after all she was a nurse. He looked quickly at Pam. Her eyes were thoughtful as she looked at Grace Spencer.
    â€œI’m sorry about—” Bill said, and his head barely indicated the body. “It sometimes takes a little time for the ambulance—”
    Grace Spencer spoke then. Her voice was light, clear, and without expression.
    â€œI understand,” she said. “I quite understand.”
    Then, when Bill Weigand indicated a chair, she moved toward it, still moving well but moving with a kind of abstraction. It was almost as if she did not realize she was moving. She sat in the chair with her body straight and her knees together and her hands in her lap. Bill’s eyes, not seeming to, watched her hands. Sometimes it is hard to keep hands from moving. Her hands were not moving. But you could guess that only determination kept them quiet. She did not look at Mullins or at Stein; she did not look at Pamela North. She looked at Weigand, and waited. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, without emphasis.
    â€œI’m told you found Dr. Gordon,” he said.
    â€œHis body,” she said. “Yes. I found it.”
    He waited.
    â€œIt was about three o’clock,” she said. “A few minutes before three. The patients had begun to arrive. I—”
    She told him of finding the body, of dismissing the patients, of summoning the police. Then she paused and looked at the man from Headquarters and waited. There was an expectant stillness about her. But her concentration had faltered a little as she talked. Her hands were twisting together.
    â€œYou acted very properly,” Bill told her. “Now we want to find out everything we can about what happened here today. You understand that, Miss Spencer? You realize why?”
    â€œDr. Gordon was murdered,” she said. “I do understand.” She let her voice hang an instant at the end of the sentence. Bill Weigand interrupted.
    â€œI’m Lieutenant Weigand,” he said. “From Headquarters. These other men are Detective Sergeant Mullins and Detective Sergeant Stein. This is Mrs. North. She works with us.” He paused. His voice did not alter; it was detached, official. “Frequently,” he said. Pam looked at him and looked away again.
    â€œThank you,” Grace Spencer said. “You have my name. I am—I was—Dr. Gordon’s nurse. I have been with him for three years. I am thirty-two years old and unmarried. I live—” She gave him an address in the Murray Hill district.
    Weigand nodded at Mullins, but Mullins had his notebook out. He nodded back.
    Grace Spencer began to tell what she knew of the events of Dr. Gordon’s day. But almost as soon as she began, they were interrupted. Two men in white came to the door of the office, looked in and then waited. Weigand said, “Just a moment, Miss Spencer,” and conferred with them. He turned back, hesitating a moment. Then he turned to Grace Spencer.
    â€œThey’re going to remove the body,” he said. “It—it wouldn’t be pleasant to watch. I think we might move somewhere else, Miss Spencer. Would you suggest—?”
    She suggested one of the examining rooms, but Bill shook his head. They were very small rooms. The waiting room would be better, except for the others there. He preferred—Then he thought of the solution, and smiled faintly. It would be appropriate. He spoke to Sergeant Stein and Stein went into the waiting room. There was the sound of movement there, and in the examining-room corridor. Stein came back, and nodded. The others were now in the examining