A Letter of Mary by Laurie R. King Read Free Book Online Page A

bed and the papers and picked up some things from the floor."

    I couldn't think of a way to make the next question anything other than what it was.

    "Had she moved many things around between Wednesday and yesterday?"

    She looked at me sharply then, and I could see that she was as quick as she was honest. She studied me for a minute, and her face changed as she put together the drift of my questions with the news that the desk clerk had lacked.

    "Are you— why are you asking me this? Who are you?"

    "I'm a friend, not a niece. And yes, she died Wednesday night."

    The young woman sat down suddenly on the tightly made bed and stared at me.

    "The old lady who was run over?" she whispered. "I didn't know ... I never thought ... They just said an old woman...." The standard response: not someone I know.

    "Yes. I saw her earlier that day, and I want to know what she was doing the rest of the day. Her family wants to know." It was a small lie, and might even have been the truth. Fortunately, she believed me. I returned to my question. "She came back here on Wednesday evening, but I don't know for how long. Did the room look as though she had been here for long?"

    This appeal to her professional expertise had its effect. She stood up and surveyed the room.

    "On Wednesday, now, I made the bed, dusted, straightened the wardrobe. Put out fresh towels. There was a cup on the dressing table. I took that away. The papers were all over the table, so I tidied them, put the pencils in the drawer. That was about all. Then yesterday— let me think. Did the bed. It looked like she'd made it up herself, but it wasn't smooth like I likes to see it, so I tightened it up. I replaced one towel that was next to the washbasin in the corner. Closed the wardrobe— it was standing open. Picked up the magnifying glass— it had fallen under the desk. That was about all."

    "The papers and books weren't moved?"

    "No, they were right here on Wednesday." She glanced at them, then looked more closely. "That's funny. Oh, I suppose she must have read them and put them back herself. There was a page on the top with some funny drawings— of this little, like a statue of a fat woman, with no clothes. I remember it had big, you know." She sketched a gesture of abundance at her front and blushed. "And I looked at the page under it, too, just curious, you know. You won't tell Mr Lockhart? The manager?"

    "Of course not. What was under the drawing of the figurine?"

    "Another drawing, of a horse and a kind of cart."

    I looked at the papers, but the top four sheets were all typescript. I thumbed through the stack carefully and halfway down the pile found the page with three drawings of a fertility figure, and several pages further on the drawing of the war chariot. I held them thoughtfully.

    "In the same place, you say? But she had looked through them and put them back straight."

    "Funny, isn't it? She wasn't that tidy with them Tuesday and Wednesday."

    "Yes, well, perhaps she was embarrassed when she realised what a mess she'd left."

    "Maybe," she said dubiously. Working as a maid in an hotel no doubt made one sceptical of the human generosity of spirit.

    "Well, thank you, Miss ..."

    "I'm Sally, madam, Sally Wells."

    "And if her family want to reach you again, what days do you work?"

    "I have Saturday afternoon and all Sunday free, madam. Oh, madam, that's not necessary. No, I couldn't take that. Well, maybe part of it. Thank you, madam."

    "It's I who thank you, Miss Wells. For the family, that is. You've been most helpful. No, I don't think you need clean in here for the next two or three days, until we can remove her things. And it would be best if you could remain ... discreet, until then. It wouldn't do to have people trooping in and out of here. I knew you'd understand. Thank you again, Miss Wells."

    Downstairs, I dropped the key on the desk and asked how long Miss Ruskin had paid for the room.

    "I believe she was planning on leaving us