CHAPTER 3I looked at Rinaldi and he said, “You’re that writer fellow…wanted to write about Mary…”
“I’m that fellow,” I said, “but I’m not a writer.”
“You’re an officer?”
“No, that was for the benefit of the troops.”
“Well, I—”
“Have you been here long?” I asked him.
He shook his head. “A few minutes. The door was open—unlocked.”
“Was the light on when you came?”
“No. I turned it on. I had an appointment to come here.”
“Yes, I saw the message.”
“Oh,” he said. “I see. Mary showed you?”
“Yes, she did. She feels you’re in some sort of trouble.” His mouth twisted in what might have been a sardonic smile. I couldn’t be sure. He was extremely tight.
“From the look of things,” I said, “it wasn’t an unreasonable conclusion on her part.”
“Dear Mary,” he said, very gently.
I gave him a
