Amelia Jasper looked up from her wheel chair and transfixed us with her most winning smile. “How do you do!” she said. “Won’t you all be seated? Hello, Claire, honey. How are you today, dear?”
“Fine, thank you.”
“Well, since I can’t get up you’ll have to act as hostess, Claire. That sciatica again, a flare-up from that horrid automobile accident. I do wish I could do something to get over the pain. I’ve taken aspirin until I’m sick — but do sit down. Pardon me if I seem a little groggy. I’ve taken so much drug.”
Her eyes fluttered half-shut, then she caught herself and raised the lids.
We started to sit down, and then she caught sight of the handcuffs. “Why, Mr. Lam!” she said, and then added, “Surely you’re not... Why…”
Susie Irwin, the maid, finished the sentence from the doorway. “I heard about it on the radio, ma’am. I wasn’t going to say anything. He’s the one that killed that Lucille Hollister last night. You remember you were reading about it in the papers, the stocking murder.”
“Donald Lam killed her!” Amelia Jasper exclaimed, incredulously. “Why, I thought he was so nice. Why... Why... And you bring him here!”
“In order to try and clear up a couple of angles of the case,” Sergeant Sellers apologised.
“Well, I don’t want that man in my house. I don’t want to be near him. I read all about that crime in the newspapers, the horrible, sickening details. I... I’m sorry, but I just…”
“Just a couple of questions, Aunt Amelia,” Claire said. “Just a few things that the police want to clear up. If you can answer the questions quickly, why then they’ll be out that much sooner.”