“See anyone you knew out there?”
“No.”
The chief looked over at Kleinsmidt. “Bring the Clutmers in, Bill.”
Kleinsmidt went out through a door that opened on a corridor. I said to the chief, “Now that I’ve answered your questions, perhaps you’ll tell me what this is all about.”
A moment later, the door opened, and the woman who had been in the apartment adjoining Helen Framley’s walked into the room; a step behind her came her husband. They looked as though it had been a hard night. Their eyes were red-rimmed. The muscles on their faces sagged.
The chief said, “You know Mr. and Mrs. Clutmer?”
“I’ve seen them.”
“When did you see them last?”
“Yesterday.”
“What time yesterday?”