'I really wouldn't know,' Chris told him. 'Karl handles all of that.'
'Oh, I see.'
'Want to ask him?'
The detective sighed and leaned back from the table, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his coat. He stared glumly at the witchcraft book. 'Never mind, never mind; it's remote. You've got a daughter very sick, and--- well, never mind.' He made a gesture of dismissal and rose from the chair. 'Very nice to have met you, Miss Spencer.'
'Same here.' Sharon nodded remotely.
'Baffling,' said Kinderman with a headshake. 'Strange.' He was focused on some inner thought. Then he looked at Chris as she rose from her chair. 'Well, I'm sorry. I've bothered you for nothing. Forgive me.'
'Here, I'll walk you to the door,' Chris told him,, thoughtful.
'Don't bother.'
'No bother.'
'If you insist. Incidentally,' he said as they moved from the kitchen, 'just a chance in a million, I know, but your daughter---you could possibly ask her if she saw Mr. Dennings in her room that night?'
Chris walked with folded arms. 'Look, he wouldn't have had a reason to be up there is the first place.'
'I know that; I realize; that's true; but if certain British doctors never asked, 'What's this fungus?' we wouldn't today have penicillin. Right? Please ask. You'll ask?'
'When she's well enough, yes; I'll ask.'
'Couldn't hurt. In the meantime...' They'd come to the front door and Kinderman faltered, embarrassed. He put fingertips to mouth in a hesitant gesture. 'Look, I really hate to ask you; however...'
Chris tensed for some new shock, the prescience tingling again in her bloodstream 'What?'
'For my daughter... you could maybe give an autograph?' He'd reddened, and Chris almost laughed with relief; at herself; at despair and the human condition.
'Oh, of course. Where's a pencil?' she said.
'Right her!' he responded instantly, whipping out the stub of a chewed-up pencil from the pocket of his coat while he dipped his other hand in a pocket of his jacket and slipped out a calling card. 'She would love it,' he said as he handed them both to Chris.
'What's her name?' Chris asked, pressing the card against the door and poising the pencil stub to write. There followed a weighty hesitation. She heard only wheezing. She glanced around. In Kinderman's eyes she saw some massive, terrible struggle.
'I lied,' he said finally, his eyes at once desperate and defiant. 'It's for me.'
He fixed his gaze on the card and blushed. 'Write 'To William---William Kinderman'---it's spelled on the back.'
Chris eyed him with a wan and unexpected affection, checked the spelling of his name and wrote, William F. Kinderman, I love you! And signed her name. Then she gave him the card, which he tucked in his pocket without reading the inscription.
'You're a very nice lady,' he told her sheepishly, gaze averted.
'You're a very nice man.'
He seemed to blush harder. 'No, I'm not. I'm a bother.' He was opening the door. 'Never mind what I said here today. It's upsetting. Forget it. Keep your mind on your daughter. Your daughter.'
Chris nodded, her despondency surging up again as Kinderman stepped outside onto the stoop and donned his hat.
'But you'll ask her?' he reminded as he turned.
'I will,' Chris whispered. 'I promise. I will.'
'Well, good-bye. And take care.'
Once more Chris nodded; then added, 'Yon too.'
She closed the door softly. Then instantly opened it again as he knocked.
'What a nuisance. I'm a nuisance. I forgot my pencil.' He grimaced in apology.
Chris eyed the stub in her hand, smiled faintly and gave it to Kinderman.
'And another thing...' He hesitated. 'It's pointless, I know---it's a bother, it's dumb---but I know I won't sleep thinking maybe there's a lunatic loose or a doper if every little point I don't cover, whatever. Do you think I could---no, no, it's dumb, it's a ---yes; I should. Could I maybe have a word with Mr. Engstrom, do yon think? The deliveries... the question of deliveries. I really should....'
'Sure, came on in,' Chris said wearily.
'No, you're busy. Enough. I can talk to him here. This is fine. Here is fine.'
He had leaned against a railing.
'If you insist.' Chris smiled thinly. 'He's with Regan. I'll send him right down.'
'I'm obliged.'
Quickly Chris closed the door. A minute later, Karl opened it. He stepped down to the stoop with his hand
