May’s face brightened.
“Is she in trouble ?” she asked hopefully.
“She’s been murdered.”
He watched the quick change of expression and noted with satisfaction the fear that jumped into her eyes.
“Murdered? Who did it?”
“She was struck with an ice-pick. We don’t know who did it yet. Was she working last night?”
“I wouldn’t know. I was out.”
Donovan drew in a slow exasperated breath.
“So you didn’t hear or see anything, like the rest of them?”
“I can’t help it, can I?” May said. “Murdered! Gee! I never liked her, but I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.” She got up and crossed the room to where the gin bottle stood on the window seat. “Excuse me, but my nerves are shot this morning.” She poured a big drink. “Want one?”