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With One Stone

Page 21

by Frances Lockridge


  ‘There is a formality,’ Heimrich said, and the girl said, ‘Yes. I know.’

  ‘You’ll find him very changed,’ Heimrich said. ‘He—he looks much older than he was.’

  But there was really no way to prepare her. At the mortuary she looked at the old man, and trembled and said, ‘I suppose so. I—no. No.!’ The nurse who had gone with them thought the girl swayed, and reached toward her, but Enid Mitchell shook her head, almost angrily, and stood steadily and looked once more and then said, ‘Yes. This is my father’s body,’ and then turned and walked, still quite steadily, out of the place.

  In the car, she did not, for some time, say anything. Heimrich drove back toward the barracks. She looked through the windshield, and he did not think she saw anything. They were on the long driveway up to the barracks from the Bronx River Parkway Extension when she finally spoke, and then it was only to ask if he could tell her some place to stay.

  ‘I didn’t have any plans,’ she said. ‘I—I just drove down and found out where to go—how to get here. And came here. My bag’s in the car.’

  ‘It’s a longish drive,’ Heimrich said. ‘This afternoon?’

  She said yes. She said, ‘I’m tired, captain. A motel? Something like that?’

  Heimrich said there were several motels. There was also a place—a place he liked himself—called the Old Stone Inn. ‘Wherever you say,’ the girl said. ‘If it isn’t too far.’

  It was not far. She followed Heimrich’s car in a not very new Chevrolet to Van Brunt Center and the inn.

  An interesting coincidence, Heimrich thought, leaving the pretty girl at the inn. A shocking one for the girl, of course. She must have been still in Tonaganda when her father died; might have been packing her bag to go in search of him. If—

  Heimrich switched on his radio and, over considerable static, talked to the barracks. He made certain arrangements.

  Barracks reported some dope on T. Lyman Mitchell, in his guise of Old Tom, handyman at large. Nothing too hot; just dope. Like where—

  Static rattled Heimrich’s car. ‘I’m going home,’ Heimrich said. ‘I’ll call in for it.’

  The speaker said, ‘Ggrah,’ and a number of other things, which presumably represented acquiescence.

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  All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 1961 by Richard and Frances Lockridge

  Cover design by Andy Ross

  ISBN: 978-1-5040-5046-3

  This 2018 edition published by MysteriousPress.com/Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.

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