She opened the door a bit, and the light from the hallway touched her wide eyes and pale face. “I... there’s nothing I can tell you. Please believe me.”
“I’m not a cop,” he said. “You don’t have to talk to me. But I wish you would.”
“All right.” She sounded weary and hopeless. “Come in.”
There was a single lamp shining in the long living room, and the draperies were drawn across the wide picture window. She sat down on the edge of a chair and lit a cigarette. He could see that her fingers were shaking.
“When did you get the news?” he said quietly.
“A friend of Eden’s—” She moistened her lips. “A friend of Eden’s called me.”
“Were the police here?”
“Yes, a detective. He said he needed to know who should be notified. I gave him her mother’s address. A reporter and a photographer were here a little later. They wanted snapshots of Eden, pictures of me, pictures of the apartment.”
“That wasn’t very pleasant, I guess.”
“I couldn’t think about anything but her.” She stood and began pacing restlessly, taking quick drags on the cigarette. “Eden knew so much, she worked so hard — and suddenly it’s all over. Snuffed out. I can’t stand any room in the apartment. Everything is full of her things. Dresses, shoes, cosmetics. There’s a coffee cup on the kitchen sink with her lipstick on it. Her room smells of her cologne. The magazines she was reading are here on the coffee table.” Connie put her fingers to her temples. “It’s all alive, just as she left it. But she’ll never come back.”
Terrell said, “You told me the other day she was frightened. What did you mean by that?”
“I don’t know — it was the way she acted.” Connie sat down on the edge of the sofa and the light from the single lamp glinted on her short blond hair and shadowed her dark blue eyes. She wore pajamas and a blue robe, and looked very tired and very miserable. “I thought it was nerves at first. The telephone or a knock on the door made her jump. You saw her. She looked like she was being pulled to pieces.”
“What was she afraid of?”
“I don’t know. She didn’t tell me. But it was connected with a job she was doing. Tonight a man came here to talk to her. She was frightened, I know. And she didn’t want to go on. But he insisted.”
“Who was the man?”
Connie looked up at him, and he saw fear growing in her eyes. “You’re asking me to break the eleventh commandment,” she said. “Keep thy mouth shut.”
“What are you afraid of?”
“I don’t want trouble.”
Terrell hesitated a second, knowing he would be a fool to trust her; she owed him nothing, and she had obviously been indoctrinated with the hoodlum idea that anyone who helped the police was an informer. But there was nothing else he could do. “Please listen to me now,” he said. “Take this on faith if you can. The man who killed Eden is walking free. An innocent man has been charged with her murder. He’ll die for it unless the truth comes out. So if you know anything, you can’t keep quiet.”
She looked down at her hands, and her manner was badgered and defensive. “Who says I know anything?”
“Who was the man who came here tonight? What did he want Eden to do? Why was she frightened? Can’t you tell me?”
“You want the story, sure. That’s your job. You’ll get a raise and a pat on the back from your boss. Should I stick my neck out to make you look good?”
“Forget about me, for God’s sake,” Terrell sat down beside her and said, “An innocent man may die — that’s why you’ve got to stick your neck out. But this isn’t a tong war or some wholesale vendetta from the Capone era in Chicago. You’ll be protected. If you trust me, I’ll see to it. And I’ll keep whatever you tell me in confidence. But if you don’t trust me, go to the police. Or the governor.”
The phone began to ring and she started nervously and guiltily; the sound seemed ominously insistent in the silent apartment. They looked at each other for a few seconds, but when she started to rise Terrell caught her wrist. “Answer my question first. Who was the man?”
Her flesh was cold to his touch, and he felt a tremor shake her body. He sighed and released her wrist. “Okay. Answer the phone.”
She crossed the room quickly and raised the receiver to her lips.
Terrell lit a cigarette and watched her eyes; something changed in them as she stood listening with the phone tight against her ear. “Yes... yes,” she said, and listened for a few more seconds. Then she said, “Yes, all right. I understand.” She put the phone down slowly and stood motionless for a few seconds. Her face was very pale.
“Who was that?” Terrell said casually.
“A friend of mine.”
“Well, where were we? Eden was frightened about a job she had to do.”
She turned to her chair and lit a cigarette without meeting his eyes. “I was just guessing,” she said. “Perhaps I was wrong.”
“And how about the man who came here tonight?”
“I don’t know anything about him.”
“You saw him, didn’t you?”
“No — I was in the bedroom.”
“That’s a pity. The last time I was here you told me Frankie Chance had been up to see Eden. You remember that?”
