Death Has a Small Voice
“to 6:08 A.M.
Sergeant Mullins said, “What the hell?” and Bill Weigand, tapping the desk with his fingers, shook his head. Then the door opened with sudden violence, a heavy, dark man filled the doorway, a heavy voice rumbled.
“What’s this about Hilda?” Garrett Shaw demanded.
He looked as if he had dressed hastily; his soft shirt was open at the neck, a day’s beard was dark on his face. The skin over his right cheekbone was reddened; in the center of the area there was a small cut, the blood dri...ed on it.
Weigand did not hurry his answer. After a moment, he said, “She’s dead, Mr. Shaw. She was strangled.”
“You talked about a burglar,” Shaw told him. “Said she was all right.”
“I didn’t know, then,” Bill told him. “We only found out a few hours ago.” He looked up at Shaw. “How did you know?” he asked.
Shaw came into the room. He stood over Weigand’s desk and stared down at Weigand.
“You know a man named Rogers?” he asked. “You know him?”
“Yes,”MoreLess
Sergeant Mullins said, “What the hell?” and Bill Weigand, tapping the desk with his fingers, shook his head. Then the door opened with sudden violence, a heavy, dark man filled the doorway, a heavy voice rumbled.
“What’s this about Hilda?” Garrett Shaw demanded.
He looked as if he had dressed hastily; his soft shirt was open at the neck, a day’s beard was dark on his face. The skin over his right cheekbone was reddened; in the center of the area there was a small cut, the blood dri...ed on it.
Weigand did not hurry his answer. After a moment, he said, “She’s dead, Mr. Shaw. She was strangled.”
“You talked about a burglar,” Shaw told him. “Said she was all right.”
“I didn’t know, then,” Bill told him. “We only found out a few hours ago.” He looked up at Shaw. “How did you know?” he asked.
Shaw came into the room. He stood over Weigand’s desk and stared down at Weigand.
“You know a man named Rogers?” he asked. “You know him?”
“Yes,”MoreLess
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