Doris sniffed. “Miss, if you don’t mind. Mr. Worthington gave me the day off. I’ll be happy to talk with you.” She turned on her heel and led us to a small living room, its windows overlooking the street. We distributed ourselves among the chairs. “What did you want to talk about?” Very cool and unruffled. I felt a tingle of alarm.
James began. “Can you tell us what happened yesterday afternoon at the Society?”
She glanced at me. “Of course. Mr. Worthington asked me to call Miss Pratt. He wanted her to see something he had discovered in the basement. I called her, and she arrived an hour or so later.”
“And then what?”
“I escorted her to the basement.”
“Where was Mr. Worthington?”
“I can’t say.”
“He was not in the building?”
“No, I don’t believe so. I expected him to meet us there.”
“Had you seen him at all yesterday?”
Doris shook her head.
“Talked to him?”
“Well, I must have, wouldn’t you say?” She looked at James as if challenging him.
He took a different tack. “After you led Miss Pratt to the basement, what did you do?”
“I went back upstairs. I had some paperwork to finish up.”
“You must have finished it, since you didn’t go in to work today.”
“Charles was kind enough to let me take the day off.”
“Where was Miss Pratt when you left yesterday?”
“Still in the basement as far as I’m aware. May I ask why you would like to know?”
“Are you familiar with the room that used to be a wine cellar, in the basement?”
“Not to my knowledge. I seldom go downstairs-there’s more than enough to keep me busy upstairs.”
“So you were not aware that Miss Pratt spent the night locked in that wine cellar?”
Doris ’s eyes darted briefly to me. “Why would I be?”
I stared at the woman in front of me: prim, self-contained, sitting tidily on a straight-backed chair, her legs crossed at the ankles. Was she a very good actress? Apparently she was. But something about Doris Manning was off. She had shown no surprise when we appeared at her door, and little curiosity about why we were here. I decided to cut to the chase. “ Doris, you knew I had a relationship with Charles, right?”
For a brief moment her eyes flashed with venom. Then the shutters dropped again. “That’s none of my concern.”
“Did you know about the other women, too?” I pressed.
“I know that Mr. Worthington meets many women in the course of his duties as president. On occasion he has asked me to make a dinner reservation or send flowers.”
“Did you know that he made a pass at Marty and is now dating a friend of hers? And that he’s been involved with other women-multiple women-at every place he’s worked in the past ten years?”
Doris was now glaring openly at me. “Why should that be of any interest to me? He’s my employer. I don’t intrude upon his personal affairs.”
I sat back in my chair. “Of course you don’t. But he depends on you, doesn’t he? You’re a great help to him, and you’re an important part of the Society’s organization.”
“I try to be of service,” she said. “It is, after all, my job.”
And how far did her devotion go? I was getting tired of this. “ Doris, cut the crap. Yesterday afternoon you pushed me into the wine cellar and locked the door. I think you hoped that it would be a good long time before anybody found me.” When her expression didn’t change, I realized that she wasn’t going to alter her story, and I had precious little proof to back up mine. But then an idea occurred to me. “ Doris, I’m going to bring charges of attempted murder against you, and against Charles. If he asked you to, uh, remove me, then he’s equally guilty under the law, and he’ll be arrested, too.”
I could see that shot had hit home. For all I knew, she was perfectly willing to be a martyr, but she wasn’t about to let Charles be dragged down with her. Not after she had gone to such great lengths to help him. “No! Charles didn’t know.”
“Know what, Miss Manning?” James said.
“About… what I did, yesterday.”
“And what was that?”
Doris lifted her chin. “I did push Miss Pratt into the wine cellar. And I knew that she wouldn’t be found for days, if not longer.”
James said carefully, “You admit that you attempted to kill Miss Pratt?”
Doris nodded vigorously, dislodging a piece of her precise coiffure. “Yes. I did it. But Charles knew nothing about it. I never even talked to him yesterday-you can check the phone records. You’re with the FBI, and you can do that, can’t you? You’ll see, it wasn’t Charles, it was me. All me.” There was a thread of hysteria in her voice now.
I stared at the woman. Someone I had known, had worked with, for years. Whose obsession with the boss I had laughed off, dismissing it as trite and pathetic. She must have hated me. I shivered and wondered just what else I had missed along the way.
But there was still one other matter. I wasn’t sure what my standing here was, but I had to know. “Doris, what about Alfred?”
She swung her gaze at me, eyes wide. “What about him?”
James shook his head at me, but I ignored him. “How did he die?”
I could see that Doris ’s hands were trembling, and she clasped them in her lap. “It wasn’t Charles,” she said stubbornly.
“You don’t have to tell us what happened, Miss Manning. You can have a lawyer if you want one,” James warned her.
Doris shook her head vehemently. “No. You have to know it wasn’t Charles. Alfred, he… found out things. He was going to tell someone-I know he told you, Nell-and that would mean disaster for the Society. It would hurt Charles, wreck his career. I couldn’t let Alfred do that. So I had to stop him. He couldn’t tell.”
“What happened, Miss Manning?” James’s voice was gentler now.
Doris nodded. “I told him I needed his help to find something in the stacks. He didn’t ask any questions-I knew he wanted to get away from that party. He hated parties. There was nobody around upstairs, not in the hall, not in the stacks. We went inside, and I pointed toward a shelf, and when he turned to look, I picked up the step stool and I hit him with it. Just once. He must have heard me pick it up, because he was turning, and then he fell back against the shelf and hit his head. He fell on the floor. He was bleeding. I waited to see if anybody had heard anything, but nobody came. He was unconscious, and when his breathing changed I knew he wouldn’t last long. I went back downstairs to the party.”
Doris ’s calm, even tone sickened me. She’d just described murdering someone, watching him die, and she didn’t seem to feel a thing.
Then she turned to me again. “Why couldn’t you have left it alone? Alfred was nobody-he had no right to interfere. What did it matter, a few bits and pieces of old paper? The Society would survive. Charles would make sure of that.”
Marty finally spoke up. “Alfred was my cousin, and he was a good man. And at least he was an honest one, which is more than you can say for Charles.”
Doris stood up abruptly. “How dare you!” And she sprang at Marty, claws out. James stepped in and held her back, and she turned on him. “Don’t touch me! Take your hands off me!” She was sliding into full-blown hysteria, and it was all James could do to restrain her. Over his shoulder he said to me, “I think we could use a little help here. Can you call the police?”
I was happy to comply.
I went downstairs and out to the front steps to make the call, and stayed there to wait for them. I wanted to get out of that cramped apartment and away from Doris. I sat on the brick steps until the first police car arrived, and I wasn’t surprised when Detective Hrivnak stepped out.
“You again? What is it this time?”
I debated very briefly about taunting her, but mainly I wanted this to be over. The fact that she was here meant that she or someone had taken my mention of murder on the phone seriously. “Top floor. You might need a hand-there’s a hysterical woman up there, and she’s trying to confess to Alfred Findley’s murder.”