The play seemed to last for about ten light years but actually it wasn't quite midnight when we caught a taxi outside the theatre. As soon as we rounded the corner and were in sight of the marquee of the apartment house, I knew something had gone wrong. Two red and white police cars blocked off the entrance of the house and a curious throng of people had gathered around.
I'd expected to have a chance to retrieve the necklace before the police were called. In the confusion of discovering her body no one would notice or, even if some one did, it wouldn't appear particularly odd for me to unfasten the necklace and slip it in my pocket. After all, it would have been my last gift to her.
With the police already on the scene that part of the plan was out. Nothing was left except to play it by ear. We pushed our way through the curious idlers and the neighbors who'd come out into the halls. A cop was at the front door but as soon as we'd identified ourselves he ushered us into Maudie's big front room. Only two cops were there. I didn't get the smaller one's name but the towering man in plain clothes introduced himself as Lieutenant Onsett, of Central Homicide.
Just the mention of homicide was enough to give me the jitters bad but fortunately Isabelle stole the scene with a fit of hysterics that nearly blew the roof of the place. She distracted everyone with her screaming jag long enough for me to slip into the bedroom for a look at Maudie. She lay straight on the bed, her arms flung out, her face contorted and blue but not a mark on her throat.
What I wanted most was to get my hands on the necklace but when I drew close to her I could see that it was gone. I stood still, breathing hard, trying to collect my wits. Could the necklace have slipped off after death? I scanned the bed-clothes, the carpet beside the bed, the medicine table. No sign of it.
I hadn't heard anyone enter the room but when I looked up, I found myself staring into the pale gray eyes of Lieutenant Onsett. His face wore an official mask of blankness but it was belied by the quirk of his lips. He knew something, I thought, or at least he was suspicious. I had to take a firm grip on myself not to make a break for it and try to rush past him to the freedom of the hall.
Onsett motioned me back to the front room. Isabelle had quieted down although she was still sobbing. Sylvester and his wife were sitting on the divan holding hands and looking distraught. I went to Isabelle and slid my arms around her and waited to see what would come next.
The questioning was all very polite, in perfect order. The details of the birthday dinner and the theatre party came out. We learned, in turn, that a friend of Maudie's who had a key to the apartment had dropped in to surprise her with a birthday gift and had discovered the body. There was some mention of the necklace but neither Onsett nor his partner pursued the matter. I was beginning to feel cocky again, sure that Maudie's death would be put down to accidental strangulation or a heart attack.
In about an hour we were all told that we could leave but just as we got to the door, Onsett called me back and asked me to wait. Sylvester offered to take Isabelle home and I didn't dare to protest too much. I stood in the middle of the room, listening to their footsteps die away in the hall and then I turned to face Onsett. His partner had disappeared and the two of us were alone in the room.
He sat down in an easy chair and crossed his legs. There wasn't anything for me to do but try to appear as much at ease as he. We sat there in silence for long minutes. Finally Onsett dug out a cigarette and offered me one. I took it and lit up. The smoke burned my throat but having something to do with my hands helped.