I lay still in the bath, my face expressionless. A nurse! Was this the missing nurse Mifflin had told me about? It sounded like her.
“Her name’s Anona Freedlander—right?” I shot out.
Bland showed his surprise.
“How did you know?”
“I’m a detective,” I said solemnly.
Bland grinned. He sat on a stool near the bath and lit a cigarette.
“Get going, baby. Never mind the detection now. I gotta lot to do.” Absent-mindedly he dropped the match into the water.
“What’s wrong with Hopper?” I asked, changing the subject. “Why’s he here?”
“Hoppie’s quite a case,” Bland said, and shook his head. “There’re certain times in the month when even I don’t go near him. You wouldn’t think that to look at him, would you? A very deceptive guy. If it wasn’t for his old man’s money he would be in a criminal asylum. He killed a girl: tore her throat out with his teeth. He’ll be here for the rest of his days. You never know with him. When he’s in the wrong mood he’s a killer. One day he’s okay, the next he’s as dangerous as a tiger on hunger strike.”
I began wondering about Bland, asking myself if he could be bought.