“Oh, no, separately. They’ve been after me one at a time, but the worst was that woman Duday. Isn’t she a terror?”
“I guess so. I don’t know her as well as you do. Why did Miss Eads want you at a special stockholders’ meeting?”
“She said she wanted to elect a new board of directors, and it would be all women, and they would elect Viola Duday president of the corporation — that’s right, isn’t it, president of the corporation?”
“It sounds like it. Did she say who would be on the new board of directors?”
“Yes, but I don’t — wait, maybe I do. She and I were to be — Pris and I — and Viola Duday, and some woman in charge of something at the factory — I forget her name — and Pris’s maid, the one that’s been with her so long — her name’s Margaret, but I forget her last name.”
I supplied it. “Fomos. Margaret Fomos.”
“No, that’s not — oh, yes, of course. She’s been married.”
I nodded. “She has also been killed. She was waylaid on the street and strangled to death Monday night, a couple of hours before Priscilla Eads.”
Sarah Jaffee’s eyes popped. “Margaret has — too?”
“Yes. Was that all, those five, to be—”