the hall on his way out.
She didn’t accompany the Chief when he went back to the utility room. She remained where she was, sitting back now, slumped in her chair. She looked pale and tired; she seemed sunk into herself. Kelsey spoke to her as he went from the room but she didn’t answer, didn’t look at him.
In the utility room Sergeant Lambert had taken up his post by the door. Clayton had spent the interval sitting on a tall, padded stool, with his arms folded across his chest and his head lowered; he had made no effort to engage the sergeant in conversation. He looked up as the Chief came in but he didn’t get to his feet.
‘We’ll have the name and address of the customer you called on yesterday on your way home from the exhibition,’ Kelsey told him briskly. Clayton supplied the details.
‘And the times, as exact as possible, when you arrived and left this customer.’
‘I arrived there at ten minutes to six,’ Clayton answered without hesitation. ‘I know that because I’d checked the time, I’d hesitated about calling in. But the customer works on his own account, he often stays late. As I drove up I saw the light on in his office, so I went in. His secretary was still there. She made us some tea and I stayed talking with the customer for half an hour or more.’ They had chatted about business, trade in general, the exhibition.
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