Murder Has Its Points

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Authors: Frances and Richard Lockridge
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the olive-green telephone. What did Lauren Payne want, want anxiously, to talk to her about? At—Pam looked at the watch on her wrist—five minutes before nine?
    Pam went to the bedroom, followed by cats. Pam spread up both beds—and had to reopen one of them to extricate Stilts, who had got herself spread in. Pam changed from housecoat to a gray-blue dress and had just finished lipstick when the door chimes sounded. Stilts rushed to answer the door. Shadow went under one of the beds.
    Lauren Payne wore a woolen sheath, and was a woman who could wear a sheath. She wore mink over it, and Pam, admiringly, thought “Phew.” She was a slender, graceful woman, a little taller than Pam herself. The color of the sheath was a little deeper than the copper of Lauren Payne’s hair, the flickering copper in her greenish eyes. Very lovely, as Pam remembered her. Her low-pitched voice very steady, as it had been on the telephone. She was afraid she was being a nuisance. Her lips smiled. Her eyes did not. There was strain in her eyes.
    Seated in a deep chair in the living room, Lauren Payne hardly knew where to begin. It would seem to Mrs. North—“What a pretty cat. A Siamese, isn’t she? Such very blue eyes. A really beautiful cat.”
    â€œWe think so,” Pam said, giving all the time needed. “Some people like them fluffy, of course. We feel that fluff hides cat. And there are the knots and—”
    Lauren Payne was not listening. Pam North let cats drift away.
    â€œWhen you came to tell me Anthony was—had been shot,” Lauren said without looking at Pam, and then did look at her. “It was kind of you. It’s a hard thing to do.” She paused. “What did I say, Mrs. North?”
    â€œWhy—” Pam said, and paused to remember.
    â€œI’d taken something,” Lauren said. “A sedative. I was—groggy, I guess. And then, afterward, the doctor gave me something else. The thing is—in between it’s rather like a dream. A dream I half remember.”
    â€œWhy—” Pam said again. “You were lying down. You said to come in and—”
    â€œJust you. There wasn’t anybody else?”
    â€œNot right away. Then the doctor came. I said I was afraid I had bad news—I said something dreadful had happened. I don’t know the precise words. Then—well, then I merely told you. That Mr. Payne had been shot and that he was dead. And you—”
    Lauren leaned forward in the deep chair. It seemed to Pam that her eyes said, “Hurry. Hurry! ”
    â€œFor a moment,” Pam said, “I thought you hadn’t heard me. Then you said—I’m not sure I remember it precisely. You said, ‘Anthony? Not Anthony? ’ and I said something meaningless—that I was sorry. Something like that. You looked at me for a moment—you don’t remember this?”
    â€œNo. Go on. Please go on.”
    â€œBut,” Pam said, “there wasn’t anything—not really anything. I think you said, ‘No. Oh— no! ’ Something like that. And put your hands up to your forehead. You’d been lying down. You were sitting up by then. I don’t remember that I said anything. I think I put my arm around your shoulders. Then you said, ‘Shot? You said he was shot?’ It was something like that. Not really as if you expected me to say it again. Then you said—asked if we—no, ‘they’—‘knew.’ I supposed, who had shot Mr. Payne, and I said, ‘No. Nobody knows yet,’ and then that the shot seemed to have come from above somewhere. I think I said it was probably a sniper. One of those insane—”
    â€œI know,” Lauren said. “That was all I said? Nothing about—anybody?”
    â€œWhy,” Pam said, “you said his name—your husband’s. As if you couldn’t believe it. I don’t know

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