Adams stroked the tip of his thin nose as he met O’Brien’s furious eyes.
“It can’t be done. He didn’t kill her.”
“Then who did?” O’Brien snarled.
Adams nodded at Gilda.
“She did, of course.”
“My God!” O’Brien exploded. “I’ll make you pay for that! I’ll…” He broke off as he caught sight of Gilda’s face.
She was now as white as a fresh fall of snow. Her eyes stared past O’Brien, her hand at her throat. He followed the direction of her staring eyes.
In her bedroom doorway, looking up at her, was a fawn Pekinese dog.
III
Deliberately, the dog crossed the room and stopped outside the door leading to the kitchen. It scratched at the paintwork, whined, then scratched at the door again.