“I have business with Miss Drew,” I said patiently. “Important business.”
“Who are you?”
“The name’s Vic Malloy. I’m an old friend of Janet Crosby.”
A muscle in her upper lip suddenly twitched, but otherwise there was no reaction.
“So what?”
“Does that make you Miss Drew or doesn’t it?”
“Yes. What is it?”
“I was hoping you might help me,” I said, resting one hand on the wall and leaning on it. “The fact is I’m not entirely satisfied about Miss Crosby’s death.”
This time a wary expression came into her eyes.
“Excavating ancient history, aren’t you? She’s been dead long enough. Anyway, I don’t know anything about it.”