I said, “Well Lucille should be dressed by this time and we’ll let her make the explanations.”
“Where is she?”
“Down the corridor somewhere,” I said, indicating the end of the house vaguely. “I suppose her room is down there.”
Rosalind was looking at me with startled, frightened eyes. She didn’t know whether to run screaming, or to walk down the corridor.
I moved towards her and that touched off the reaction. She fairly flew down the corridor. “Lucille!” she cried, “Lucille!”
She flung herself at the door of Lucille’s bedroom and opened it, then stood motionless in the doorway.
I grinned and said, “It’s okay, Rosalind. You’ll get to know me better after a while.”
She took one step into the room, then I heard her scream, a shrill knife-like scream of terror. Then she was yelling at the top of her voice. “Help! Police! Police!” The whole neighbourhood could hear her.
I stepped to the doorway so I could look over her shoulder. Lucille had taken the robe off. She’d also taken off the filmy other thing that had been around her when I first saw her. She had on just the bra and black panties.
She’d been choked to death with one of her own stockings. It was knotted tight around her throat and the girl was lying sprawled in death, her body a delicate, graceful, beautiful thing, her face mottled and disfigured.