Death Trap by John D. MacDonald

word assumption,” she said haughtily.
    “Then we can start?”
    She nodded nervously, and looked down at her hands. She seemed to relax a little, but not as much as I would have expected of a girl of eighteen. There was an odd wariness about her.
    “You were in love with Alister.”
    “I—I thought I was.”
    “Your father explained to you how you really weren’t.”
    “I guess so.”
    “And he told you you are too young to know what real love is.”
    “Y-Yes.”
    “But you don’t really think he’s right, do you?”
    “I don’t know. I guess so.”
    “Stop fencing, Nancy. What did you think of Alister?”
    “He’s—strange. He’s not like other boys. He doesn’t have any kind of line or anything. I—I met him in our back yard. He was watching a bird. He sort of wandered over, following it when it went from tree to tree. He was shy. He’s very smart. It could scare you, the things he knows and how quick he learns things, but he wouldn’t scare you the other way.”
    “What other way?”
    “I mean he—he was different. Usually we had a good time. Only sometimes he’d get angry. I guess I’m not too bright. Not with his kind of brains. He needed somebody.”
    “Don’t you think he still does?”
    “But—”
    “Nancy. Listen to me. Listen carefully. Can you really imagine him murdering Jane Ann?”
    “My father says you can’t ever tell—”
    “A book by its cover. The hell with your father.” She jumped as though I had slapped her. “I want to know what you think. What Nancy Paulson thinks. Do you think he had something twisted inside him that would let him do a terrible thing like that?”
    “Well—Jane Ann was always teasing him.”
    “How?”
    “Oh, in little ways. You know. Making him blush and get all confused. She was like that. She liked to do that to shy boys. Leaning up against them. Saying things that were almost dirty but not quite, and then laughing in a sort of wise way.”
    “So he could kill her because she teased him.”
    “Well, I kept thinking that maybe she sort of led him on. You know. And he got thinking about her. And then he was mad at me and he saw her walking and he picked her up and—Well, my father says that some men go out of their heads when they—”
    “Did Alister ever kiss you?”
    She looked at me and looked away, and her blush was really Victorian. “Yes,” she said in a small voice. “Lots of times. But that was all.”
    “Did he act like he was going to go out of his head?”
    “No. He wasn’t like that. And he was polite. He didn’t get—funny or anything.”
    “You’re a better looking girl than your sister was. You’re a more exciting looking woman.”
    “Don’t—Please don’t say things like that.”
    “Most girls like to hear that sort of thing.”
    “I don’t. If you talk like that I’m going home.”
    “I’m not making any pass at you. I’m trying to figure you out. If kissing you didn’t make Alister lose control, is it likely to think he’d lose control kissing your sister?”
    “She was different.”
    “How do you feel about her? I mean what did you think about the way she acted with boys?”
    “I don’t know what you mean,” she said, though I knew she understood me.
    “I don’t know what you kids call it. When I was in high school we’d call her a girl that went all the way.”
    “Don’t talk dirty like that.”
    “Look, Nancy. I am not talking dirty. Somebody killed your sister. We’re pretending it wasn’t Alister. And we know it wasn’t some person just passing through. The blood on the car and the buried knife and purse rule that out. What did you think about the way she acted, the things she did?”
    Nancy lowered her head. I had to move closer to hear her. “I thought it was awful. It made me ashamed, all the time. It made the boys worse because they thought I was the same way. I never was. I never will be. I don’t want to do nasty things. Al didn’t either. We talked about her. He