“The same morning. It was a sort of gift. I don’t know what else you’d call it.”
Laurel’s cigaret hung in the air. “Delia, you didn’t tell me Roger had got something, too!”
“He told me not to say anything, Laurel. But you’ve forced my hand, dear. Kicking up such a fuss about that poor dog. First the police, now Mr. Queen.”
“Then you did follow me.”
“I didn’t have to.” The woman smiled. “I saw you looking at Mr. Queen’s photo in the paper.”
“Delia, you’re wonderful.”
“Thank you, darling.” She sat peaceful as a lady tiger, smiling over secrets... Here, Brother Q!
“Oh. Oh, yes, Mrs. Priam. Mr. Priam’s been frightened―”
“Ever since the day he got the box. He won’t admit it, but when a man keeps roaring that he won’t be intimidated it’s pretty clear that he is. He’s broken things, too, some of his own things. That’s not like Roger. Usually they’re mine.”
Delightful. What a pity.