She held out the crumpled receipt her friend had been given by someone in Forensics. Sigrid examined it and then handed it back.
"Well, don't you see?" said the girl. "After one board got stolen, I had twoh undred and seventy-four. There're three on display, one board blew up and the police took one, so I should have only two hundred and sixty-nine." She stopped triumphantly.
"I do see," said Sigrid, leaning back in the gilt-legged chair, conscious of pain returning to her wounded arm. "Whoever stole the first cribbage board brought it back again. Undoubtedly with the bomb inside."
"And switched boards after the tables were set up," concluded Ted Flythe.
"Which was when?"
"Late Friday afternoon," Kelly Underhill replied, hurt by Lieutenant Harald's lack of response to her clever discovery. "We finished around five."
"Then I locked the doors myself," said Molly Baldwin, "and they weren't unlocked until I opened the service door at seven so the stewards could prepare the hospitality table."
"When were the hall doors unlocked?"
"At seven-thirty."
"So it would appear that the switch was made sometime between seven and nine," said Sigrid.
"Assuming no one from Graphic Games was involved," observed Lieutenant Knight.
Before Ted Flythe could take exception to his insinuation, Sigrid felt someone touch her on the shoulder and heard a merry voice say, "Ciao, Sigrid! I thought that was you."
11
DESPITE a round face, blonde bob and frivolous rhinestone-studded, harlequin-shaped, turquoise eyeglasses, Jill Gill was a serious entomologist. She wrote successful, respected children's books; had provided Roman Tramegra with enough material on caterpillar life cycles to write two articles and six fillers; and was, if one could judge by her presence here in the Bontemps Room, a dedicated cribbage player. She was also irrepressibly interested in the personal lives of her friends and artless enough to beam at Sigrid and ask, "Why hasn't Oscar brought you to see me lately? He's not sulking because you and Roman have moved in together, is he?"
Alan Knight's eyebrows lifted in amusement and Elaine Elbee was fascinated.
The police detective had approached Dr. Gill routinely, solely because the woman had played at the far end of
Table 5 the night before. That she had also netted someone personally acquainted with Lieutenant Harald was totally unexpected.
The lieutenant was something of an enigma to Albee. Harald was known to be dedicated and efficient, with a cool, logical approach to her work and an unemotional detachment that discouraged any feminine confidences. She was also known to be unmarried and it was assumed in the department that she led a chaste and probably profoundly dull existence. Detective Tildon seemed to like her, but then Tillie liked everybody. Yet even he could add nothing to their pool of common gossip the few times Lieutenant Harald's name came up in idle discussion.
Driving up to the Maintenon earlier in the afternoon, Jim Lowry had expressed the usual judgment: "When Harald got cut last night, what do you think they found-blood or ice water?"
Elaine Albee, warm and lively and full of youthful charity, had defended the older officer. "I think she was upset about Tillie. She just doesn't parade her feelings."
Now, as the ramifications of Dr. Gill's words sank in, Albee found herself looking at Lieutenant Harald in a different light. She doesn't have to be that plain, Albee realized. With a good haircut, makeup, a few bright colors… I bet her figure's not all that bad in better clothes and-
Lieutenant Harald's slate grey eyes met her speculative stare and Elaine flushed as guiltily as if the lieutenant could read her thoughts.
Now the tall officer stood up and said, "Hello, Jill."
Dr. Jill Gill was another of Oscar Nauman's unexpected, wide-ranging friendships and Sigrid Harald generally enjoyed the entomologist's sunny, good-natured prattling. But not on duty. And certainly not with Alan Knight here to draw unwarranted assumptions or Albee to gape at her as if she suddenly suspected a secret life of wanton debauchery.
"Oh my dear! What's happened to your arm? A break? How awful!" exclaimed Dr. Gill. Her eyes narrowed with concern behind the rhinestone-encrusted glasses.
"Nothing serious," Sigrid replied evenly,e ven though her arm throbbed wretchedly now and she knew she should look around for some water to take another pain tablet. "Detective Albee, why don't you and Dr. Gill sit over at the table and begin on her statement," she directed frostily. "I'll be right there."
"Certainly, Lieutenant. Dr. Gill?"
As they moved away, she heard Jill ask anxiously, "Was Sigrid shot? Stabbed? Have you worked with her long?"
She could only hope that Elaine Albee would remember this was a witness to a crime and confine her own questions to events of the previous evening.
Before following, she turned back to Ted Flythe and Molly Baldwin. "We'd like a few copies of your original pairings and the seating chart, Mr. Flythe. We'll need to ask the victims' survivors if they recognize any of the names."
"Sure, Lieutenant. Molly, could you Xerox the one on the display easel?"
"I'm afraid it got knocked over and stepped on," Miss Baldwin answered doubtfully. "Detective Albee has it right now, but it's awfully torn."
"No hurry," said Sigrid. "We'll workw ith it for now and perhaps you can supply us with fresh copies tomorrow?"
Flythe nodded and Sigrid asked Molly Baldwin. "Is your calligraphier here today?"
"Yes, he's in the studio. I'll have him come up."
Why don't I go down?" offered Lieutenant Knight. "It'll give me a chance to look over the hotel, trace the board's route back up, see who had access."
"That might be helpful," Sigrid agreed crisply, obscurely relieved that he would not be sitting in on her session with the very talkative Jill Gill.
"I can only stay a minute," warned Dr. Gill as Sigrid approached. "We finished our round early, but they'll be starting again soon." She smoothed her long red-and-black striped skirt around her short legs. "Five minutes late and it's an automatic forfeit."
"I won't keep you," Sigrid assured her. "Just tell us what happened last night."
"Okay, but if you expect the trained-scientist-notes-all shtick, forget it," she said, brushing back the blonde bangs that threatened to flop over her turquoise glasses.
"I was a little late getting here. You know me. Missed out entirely on the hot canapés and barely had time to grab a glass of wine and find my place before La Ronay gave her little welcome speech and left."
"Did you pay any attention to the people at the far end of your table?"
"Not really. I looked them over, of course. Recognized Professor Sutton. Couldn't put a name to him, but I remembered his face from seeing him interviewed on television last spring. Sounded intelligent. Shame to lose him. Vanderlyn College, wasn't he? Do you suppose Oscar knew him?"
"They were friends," Sigrid said, without expression. "Did you notice anything out of the ordinary? Anything at all?"
"Not really. Well, yes, come to think of it. The woman sitting beside him-Commander Dixon? Very attractive.
Her hair was completely white-bleached, do you suppose?" she wondered aloud. "Because her face was very youthful. At that distance anyhow. I noticed because she kept looking in my direction instead of at the front."
"You thought she knew you?"
"Oh no, she wasn't looking at me. Merely in my direction. Past me, in fact. Toward the refreshment table. But the only people down toward this end were the busboys, the head steward, and that tall, brown-haired girl who just left with that absolutely gorgeous Navy officer. Is he a hare or one of your hounds?"
"He's working with us," Sigrid nodded, "but-"
"My dear, if I were twenty years younger!" her blue eyes twinkled at Elaine Albee behind the rakish swoop of her glasses. "Now you're young enough to set your cap at him," she grinned.