diffident young man came in. He wore khaki pants and a leather jacket.
“Sit down.” Connie said casually. “What’s your name?”
“Paul Hilbert, officer.”
The tired young man was taking notes.
“What’s your occupation?”
“I’m a plumber, officer. Central Plumbing. Incorporated.”
“Did you get a call today from the Associated Bank Building?”
“Well. I didn’t get the call, but I was sent out on the job. I talked to the super, and he sent me up to the seventeenth floor. Sink drain clogged in the Men’s Room.”
“What time did you get there?”
“That’s on my report, officer. Quarter after one.”
“How long did it take you to finish the job?”
“About three o’clock.”
“Did you leave the Men’s Room at any time during that period?”
“No. I didn’t.”
“I suppose people tried to come in there?”
“Three or four. But I had all the water connections turned off, so I told them to go down to sixteen. The super had the door unlocked down there.”
“Did you get a look at everybody who came in?”
“Sure, officer.”
“You said three or four. Is one of them at this table?”
The shy young man looked around. He shook his head. “No, sir.”
“Thanks. Hilbert. Wait outside. We’ll want you to sign the statement when it’s typed up.”
Hilbert’s footsteps sounded loud as he walked to the door. Everyone was watching Kistner. His face was still, and he seemed to be looking into a remote and alien future, as cold as the back of the moon.
Kistner said in a husky, barely audible voice. “A bad break. A stupid thing. Ten seconds it would have taken me to look in there. I had to establish the time. I talked to Barney. And to the elevator boy. They’d know when she fell. But I had to be some place else. Not in the office.
“You don’t know how it was. She kept wanting more money. She wouldn’t have anything to do with me, except when there was money. And I didn’t have any more, finally.”
“I guess I was crazy. I started to milk the accounts. That wasn’t hard: the clients trust me. Take a little here and a little there. She found out. She wanted more and more. And that gave her a new angle. Give me more, or I’ll tell.”
“I thought it over. I kept thinking about her being a witness. All I had to do was make it look like she was killed to keep her from testifying. I don’t care what you do to me. Now it’s over, and I feel glad.”
He gave Connie a long, wondering look. “Is that crazy? To feel glad it’s over? Do other people feel that way?”
Connie asked Dan and Jane to wait in the small office. He came in ten minutes later; he looked tired. The plumber came in with him.
Connie said, “Me, I hate this business. I’m after him, and I bust him, and then I start bleeding for him. What the hell? Anyway, you get your badge. Miss Raymer.”
“But wouldn’t you have found out about the plumber anyway?” Jane asked.
Connie grinned ruefully at her. He jerked a thumb toward the plumber. “Meet Patrolman Hilbert. Doesn’t know a pipe wrench from a faucet. We just took the chance that Kistner was too eager to toss the girl out the window— so eager he didn’t make a quick check of the Men’s Room. If he had, he could have laughed us under the table. As it is, I can get my Christmas shopping done tomorrow. Or is it today?”
Dan and Jane left headquarters. They walked down the street, arm in arm. There was holly, and a big tree in front of the courthouse, and a car went by with a lot of people in it singing about We Three Kings of Orient Are. Kistner was a stain, fading slowly.
They walked until it was entirely Christmas Eve, and they were entirely alone in the snow that began to fall again, making tiny perfect stars of lace that lingered in her dark hair.
MISS CRINDLE AND FATHER CHRISTMAS – Malcolm Gray
Christmas comes reluctantly to Much Cluning. Huddling in its valley, the village looks even drearier than usual under grey December skies. There is no tree outside the village hall, and the single string of fairy lights along the High Street hardly creates an air of festivity. The housewives complain about the extra work Christmas brings and the men about the expense. They only do it for the kids, they say. All the same, it is doubtful if they really mean it, or if they would want to see the season abolished even if they could, and a fair number go to church or chapel on Christmas morning.
A few days before Christmas last year. Harriet Richards stood in the yard at her brother’s farm giving him a piece of her mind. At twenty-two, Harriet was as generous and warm-hearted as she was pretty. “Do you have to be such a Scrooge?” she demanded angrily.
“Go away,” Jason told her coldly. He was nine years older than his sister and he had no use for the season of goodwill. The only good thing about it to his mind was the profit he made on his flock of chickens and turkeys. He was damned if he was going to give any of them away to layabouts who weren’t prepared to get off their backsides and work. He said as much to Harriet.
“Layabouts!” she exclaimed furiously. “Do you call old Mrs. Randall a layabout?”
“It’s her husband’s job to provide for her, not mine.”
“When he’s nearly eighty and crippled with arthritis?”
“Ach!” Jason said, disgusted.
“And she’s not the only one,” Harriet went on. “There’s Josie Gardner with her three kids. And Bert Renwick and Phoebe,” she added, forestalling her brother’s attempt to interrupt her. “It’s not their fault they can’t afford anything but the bare necessities.”
“They get their pensions,” Jason retorted. “And benefits. They wouldn’t get those if people like me didn’t pay too damned much in taxes.”
“Oh,” Harriet said, exasperated, “I don’t know how Sheila puts up with you!” And, turning, she started toward the house.
“If you think I breed those birds to feed all the lame ducks in the village, you’d better think again!” Jason called after her.
There were times when she could strangle him, Harriet thought furiously. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t afford three or four turkeys. By local standards, he was well off. But he seemed to feel that people expected him to give them. It put him on the defensive, and he resented it.
Her sister-in-law was in the kitchen. “Have you and Jason been arguing again?” she asked, amused.
“You could say so.” Harriet, still boiling with indignation, explained.
“He works hard,” Sheila reminded her. “And he’s inclined to think other people don’t. There’s so much to do at this time of year, he gets worn out.”
“He could afford to pay another man if he wasn’t so mean,” Harriet said bitterly. “Anyway, it’s not just this time, it’s always.”
Soon afterward, she left. Sheila watched her go, thinking.
Later that evening Harriet had a very public quarrel with Colin Loates, her boy friend. Nobody who heard it was quite sure what it was about, but Harriet went home in tears.
Miss Crindle met her in the street the next day. Miss Crindle was a large woman with greying hair and a cheerful manner. Until her retirement three years ago, she had taught at Much Cluning Primary School for more than thirty years, and both Harriet and Colin had been among her brightest pupils. So had Jason, who hadn’t been as clever as his sister but by hard work had gained a scholarship to Leobury School and gone on to university. Harriet could have gone, too, but she preferred to stay home and work with the horses her father bred for show jumping.
