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Frederick Highland
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"It's about the argument, isn't it? That's why I'm a suspect. Well, I shan't miss him, I can tell you that. But I'd never . . . " "At least two people, a porter and the first mate, overheard that argument in your cabin last night, Mrs. Bullock." "Violet will do for a name, Inspector. And I wouldn't be surprised if the whole ship overheard that spat." She looked up at the Inspector hopefully with two wide-eyed baby blues. "You see, Geoffrey would never give me that divorce. But I think last's night encounter straightened him out on that score." "An interesting expression, Mrs. Bullock. Just how long were you married to him?" "Nearly thirteen years, Inspector. Actually twelve and half, down to the last bitter day. It didn't start out that way of course. . . . "Where did you meet your husband?" "In Rangoon. He was in the civil service. I was on holiday." She opened her hands as if in supplication. "Then he turned stamp collector on me," she added with a slight curl to her lower lip. "Imagine being neglected for wretched little pieces of paper! That's where all his passion went, and there wasn't much of that to start with." She leapt out of her seat in agitation. "He even brought his albums to bed!" She sobbed uncontrollably for a moment, putting Greavy in some embarrassment. "I'm sorry, inspector. It's just that it was all so perfectly perverted! But Geoffrey was alive when he left our stateroom last night, I swear to you. Said he was going out for a stroll on deck to compose himself. I went out for a stroll myself. When I returned, he was lying there in a pool of blood. I know how it looks . . . ." She stifled another sob. "Yes, well, that will be all for now, Mrs.Bullock. And please invite Mr. Kandi in for a chat, will you?" |
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