Time Off for Murder by Zelda Popkin

closed."
    Â Â "Neither he nor Miss Knight told you anything?"
    Â Â "No, of course not. Whatever it was he was very much upset about it. As he went out, I heard him say: 'I'm sick of the whole business. I get finished with it. I go back to Sweden.'"
    Â Â "A Garbo!"
    Â Â Struthers smiled sourly. "Whatever it was, I presume Miss Knight settled it for him. He's not been pestering the office."
    Miss Carner took up the sheet again. "Mister Van Arsdale's morning call is here. Didn't Mister Rorke phone on Wednesday?"
    Â Â Struthers hesitated. His eyes seemed to narrow behind his pince-nez. "He did not call." His old reticence had returned. "Miss Knight does not tell me about her personal affairs. She does not wish me to discuss them."
    Â Â "Listen." Detective Reese was studying the man's face with puzzled curiosity. "You got to forget you're the perfect secretary. I told you that before. This is a serious business."
    Â Â "I know it." Struthers looked away. "But I can't help feeling Miss Knight will be back soon. I want to keep my job." He was whimpering now. "I want to do whatever she wanted me to do."
    Â Â "About Rorke," the detective persisted. "Did he call or didn't he?"
    Â Â "He didn't call. I never got a call from him till Thursday morning, when he asked about Miss Knight. . . She never told me her personal affairs. I'm telling you the truth, I really am." The man's distress was plain. "I never knew a thing about him until I read it in the papers today. I was sho - I was surprised…."
    Â Â "You were shocked, eh, that's what you started to say?"
    Â Â Struthers nodded.
    Â Â "Why were you shocked?" Detective Reese was ruthless. "Was it because you had some ideas about the lady yourself?"
    Â Â Amazement spread over Struthers' face. His mouth dropped open. "I never thought about a thing like that," he said. "I never thought about Miss Knight that way." He stood up, rigid with offended dignity. "Why, I have a family, sir. A wife and children."
    Â Â "O.K…. O.K." The detective turned genial again. "Forget it. It was just an idea. We know she talked to Rorke on Wednesday. He told us so himself. We know she was nuts about him. She put it in writing."
    Â Â "She might have called him herself, you know," Struthers suggested. "I wouldn't know about that. She didn't have to tell me what outgoing calls she made. Just kept a little pencil check of them on her desk calendar. There it is." A memorandum slip showed seven vertical lines and one diagonal. "There. Eight calls she made Wednesday. That's the way we check up the phone bill. She was very careful."
    Â Â "You're telling me?" Detective Reese agreed. "I did a Houdini on the desk. Her bills, her bank book, her income tax statement, her check book - everything's there. She even kept her balance straight. Plenty of dough. Knew where every penny went."
    Â Â "Let's assume that she called Rorke. It's altogether likely she did," Miss Carner interrupted. "I've got to get back to the store. So please let me ask the questions and save time. How about the incoming calls? Those you know about. You can tell us what they were, can't you? Who the people are? What their business was with Miss Knight?"
    Â Â Struthers' face was red, his manner flustered. "I'd much rather not," he began…. "Not that there's anything here to hide. But all these matters are confidential business. Very personal. I mean personal for the people involved." He was trying hard to make them understand. "A lawyer's business, I don't know whether you realize it, it's like a doctor's. People tell their troubles to lawyers. Things they don't want anyone else to find out."
    Â Â "And Miss Knight was a sort of doctor of other people's troubles?"
    Â Â He nodded. "She was rather wonderful that way. She took an interest in people. Take poor Mister Peterson. He didn't represent much business to the office. I believe he had a piece of property. Miss Knight