CHAPTER 9“Madame regrets she is not able to see you.” The white-aproned maid blocked the door of the Baskoulos apartment.
“She will be able to see me; I am not invisible.” Don made no move to force his way past the maid. “Tell her the police will be here shortly; she had better talk to me, first.”
The maid was alarmed. “Madame is grieved.” She shut the door hastily.
Grieved, he repeated silently. But not as heavy with grief as the small suburban house where Timmy’s mother will be on the verge of a breakdown. Not as filled with grief as the apartment on Washington Heights where a crippled old man and a widow will be mourning. For that matter, not nearly as grief-stricken as that hiding place where the boy waits for a release that may never come. He thumbed the buzzer angrily.
The door o
