“But, Miss Hill―”
A muffled roar of rage stopped her instantly. She glanced over her shoulder in a panic.
“It’s all right, Muggsy. I’ll take the rap. Vatnos, Ellery.”
“I wonder why she―” Ellery began in a mumble as Laurel led him up the hall.
“Yours not to, where Delia is concerned.”
The house was even grimmer than he had expected. They passed shrouded rooms with dark paneling, heavy and humorless drapes, massive uncomfortable-looking furniture. It was a house for secrets and for violence.
The roar was a bass snarl now. “I don’t give a damn what Mr. Hill wanted to do about the Newman-Arco account, Foss! Mr. Hill’s locked in a drawer in Forest Lawn and he ain’t in any condition to give us the benefit of his advice... No, I won’t wait a minute, Foss! I’m running this business, and you’ll either handle things my way or get the hell out!”
Laurel’s lips thinned. She raised her fist and hammered on the door.
“Whoever that is, Alfred―! Foss, you still there?”
A man opened the heavy door and slipped into the hall, pulling the door to and keeping his hand on the knob behind him.