“Was it necessary to lock that door?” she snapped.
Tragg regarded her with candid surprise in his blue eyes. “Good heavens,” he exclaimed. “Did I do that? That’s what the force of habit does for a man who’s detecting murders for a living. Miss Gentrie, I apologize. No hard feelings, I hope.”
He extended his hand, and as Rebecca hesitantly placed her thin, bony hand in his, Tragg put his left hand over hers, and stood for a moment smiling down at her.
The indignation vanished from her face. Her smile became coy and arch. “No one could withhold forgiveness from so attractive a penitent,” she said.
Mrs. Gentrie said matter-of-factly, “Forget it, Rebecca. The lieutenant’s a busy man. He doesn’t have time to think of all the little things. After all, he isn’t a suitor.”
Rebecca turned to her sister-in-law, started to say something, then changed her mind. The anger in her face gave way once more to a smile as she turned back to Lieutenant Tragg. “Do be seated, Lieutenant.”
He bowed, holding her chair gallantly. “After you, Miss Gentrie,” he said.
Rebecca sighed with satisfaction. She settled down into the straight-backed kitchen chair as though she had been the star in a movie receiving a penitent but ardent swain. “Do you ever do crossword puzzles — on your days off, Lieutenant?” she asked invitingly.
Chapter 12
Mason left the elevator and came walking down the long corridor of his office building. His hat was tilted back on his head at a jaunty angle, and his hands were thrust deep in his pockets. He was whistling the catchy chorus of one of the popular tunes and his manner was that of a man who was very well pleased with himself and the world.