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Looking back, it had all worked out quite nicely. Flora Saint Quentin never had gentleman callers, never mentioned any family and, in actuality, had very few friends except for Anna, whom he didn't know and had never met. Anna was a namenothing more than a nameand he regretted that. He wondered if anyone had called this person named Anna and informed her of his housekeeper's untimely demise. He wondered how to do it, how to find the woman's last name. Beyond that, he wondered if anyone really cared about what had happened to Flora Saint Quentin. |
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Harry Driver finished his drink and went in to the dead woman's bedroom. It was neat and tidy. He could have easily believed that she would be returning at any moment, laying down her packages, donning her apron and preparing to fix the evening meal. |
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Where to start? Where does a woman like Flora Saint Quentin keep the things that are important to her? He went through the drawers of her dresser first and found only those things one would expect to findlingerie, a few blouses, two sweaters, three pair of hose. Two of the drawers were empty. The closet revealed even lessthree dresses, one of which he had seen her wear to church on those infrequent occasions when she attended, a heavy coat, a light coat, and a |
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