We sat together before the empty fireplace in the library while a stony-eyed cop stood by the door and watched us without appearing to do so.
We had told our stories to Detective Sergeant MacGraw, and now we were waiting for Brandon. As soon as MacGraw learned who Dedrick was, he said the Captain of Police would want to see us. So we waited.
In the next room a squad of the Homicide boys were at work, dusting for fingerprints, photographing the body and the room, and prowling around for clues.
There was a considerable amount of telephoning and coming and going of cars. After a while I heard a barking voice and I nudged Kerman,
‘Brandon.’
‘What a thrill for him to find us here,’ Kerman said, and grinned.
The cop scowled at him and moved restlessly. Unconsciously, he straightened his jacket and looked critically at his buttons. Captain of the Police Brandon was a martinet, and every cop on the Force was terrified of him.
Silence settled over us again like a film of dust. Another half-hour crawled past. The hands of my watch showed a quarter past midnight. Kerman was dozing. I longed for a drink.
Then the door forked open and Brandon and Detective Lieutenant Mifflin of the Homicide Squad came in.
I gave Kerman a nudge and he opened his eyes as Brandon paused to survey us the way a grand duke would look at a set of muddy footprints on his bed.