CHAPTER TWENTY-ONELucy Lee watched Colonel Primrose until he had disappeared into the house. She stood up sharply as if the effort of waiting had been almost too much for her.
She came over to me and gripped my arm. “Who was it, Grace?” she demanded desperately.
My brain was still whirling and my veins icy cold at the discovery I’d made of that dreadful clock, ticking away there, monotonous and deadly, right on the Bishops’ desk not a yard from me as I’d answered the phone. I controlled my voice as well as I could manage.
“Sergeant Buck, Lucy Lee.”
She moistened her lips with a lightning flick of the tip of her tongue and pressed her cigarette out in the yellow bowl on the white table. We followed her to the screen door with disturbed eyes.
“I’m going home,” she said abruptly.
The wo
