little smile. âHas he even once in all that time sung to me? No, he has not.â
I let that slide. âBut Lorraineâ¦â
âLorraine treated me well. I, by way of exchange, provided her with a good number of songs.â
âShe requested you contact certain deceased persons?â Mr. OâNelligan asked.
âNo, she just accepted whatever songs I thought might be of interest to her. She was always very eager to receive a new one.â
âI imagine that Lorraineâs passing must have been difficult for you,â my partner said.
âOf course. We shared much common ground, she and I. Neither of us suffered fools lightly.â Here, Mrs. Pattinshell favored me with a glance. âLorraine was a strong, talented female. The world is often unreceptive to such as us.â
Mr. OâNelligan nodded just right. âSo true, madam. Now, you are aware that the younger Miss Cobble suspects wrongdoing in the death of your friend?â
âI am.â
âDo you share that viewpoint?â
Mrs. Pattinshell took a moment to answer. âIt does seem queer to think of Lorraine as a suicide.â
âUncharacteristic, perhaps?â
âOh, yes, I should say so. Then again, what man knoweth the things of a man, save the spirit of man which is in him?â
âFirst Corinthians, is it not?â
âWhy yes, I believe it is! You know your Good Book, Mr. OâHarrigan.â
âItâs Oâ Nelligan, â my friend calmly corrected. âAs to my biblical erudition, I know more than some, less than others. Tell us, on the day Lorraine Cobble died, did you have any contact with her?â
âNone whatsoever. Iâve been over this all with the police.â
âWe understand, but weâre obliged to make our own inquiries.â
âI suppose. Of course, if there was some wrongdoing regarding Lorraineâs death, then I hope you get to the bottom of it. Alas, Iâm afraid I canât offer you much in terms of information. Iâm a very private person, you see, and my interactions with Lorraine were fairly limited. I hadnât seen her for perhaps a week prior to her death.â
âDid she seem to be her normal self at that time?â
âShe did.â
I felt like weâd run our course here. âWell then, thanks for your time, maâam.â
âYes, thank you,â echoed Mr. OâNelligan. âPerhaps as things unfold, weâll have occasion to contact you again.â
âIf you must.â
Mrs. Pattinshell stood and led us to the door. Thenâweirdly, I thoughtâshe extended her hand, palm down, to my partner, who automatically took it in his own and planted a kiss. She didnât make the same offer to me, I noticed.
As the door shut behind us, I turned to my friend. âWhat was that last little bit of flourish?â
âMrs. Pattinshell appears to have rather classic sensibilities, as do I. An extended feminine hand requires the appropriate attention.â
I was about to question the femininity of that spooky old dame but realized that she might well be listening behind her door. We made our way back to the upstairs apartment, where Sally Joan met us with a hastily composed list of her cousinâs contacts.
âIâve jotted down some names and numbers from Lorraineâs address book,â she explained. âIt includes some of the Mercutio crowd. You can go down there directly and see whoâs hanging around.â
I looked over the list. âYouâve got here another tenant who lives on this floorâCornelius Boyle. You wrote âCivil War veteranâ next to his name.â I suddenly remembered our hallway ghost. âIs that true?â
Sally Joan smiled. âMr. Boyle is one hundred and five years old! Isnât that amazing? He was a drummer boy in the war. Lorraine would get him to sing old soldier tunes to her. She arranged for him to