The little man behind the desk wore horn-rim glasses and smoked a pipe that was a copy of Lester's. He smiled paternally. "Yes, dear?"
"I killed them! They're all dead!"
Realizing excitement did nothing to make her words more believable, she forced herself to be calm.
Editor Gray wore his gray hair combed straight back, Lester-like. He stood, putting one hand into his trouser pocket, as Lester always did.
"Who did you kill?" he asked quietly. "Calm down, dear. Tell me who you killed."
"Lester and all the rest. You have to print it. I shot them—they're dead. Print it in your paper."
He crossed the room to his Wall. Bass and Kippie were rolling pie dough together, one on either end of the rolling pin.
"I'm afraid you're imagining these things, my dear." He sucked his pipe, looking lovingly at Kippie. "I could love that child, but of course Alice would be jealous."
She backed away from him into the arms of the tweedy man, who had come into the office.
"I'm sorry to bother you, sir," he said. "This poor woman is suffering from delusions. I was driving her home when she escaped me."