|About the Book|
Eleanor Lindquist, offspring of a wealthy San Francisco family, is a well-known eccentric who lives in a cheap hotel apartment. She ends up murdered--by whom? ?It was two weeks ago, a Saturday night. I worked late that night filling in for anotherMoreEleanor Lindquist, offspring of a wealthy San Francisco family, is a well-known eccentric who lives in a cheap hotel apartment. She ends up murdered--by whom? ?It was two weeks ago, a Saturday night. I worked late that night filling in for another fry-cook who had called in sick. I tried calling Eleanor that afternoon, but she wasn?t in. She was supposed to meet me here at nine, but she didn?t show up at the cafeteria as she usually did. It was twenty-five after one when I got to the hotel. I remember looking at the clock in the foyer. I asked the clerk if he had given my message. He told me he hadn?t seen anyone that fit her description. But he drinks and frequently sneaks away from the desk. ?When I got up here, the door was unlocked. I figured she had been here and had gone back to the hotel, forgetting to lock the door. She had one of these.? Matt pulled out a common long-shanked door key. ?When I entered the room I saw her. ?She was lying there on the bed, face upward, all sprawled out. Her eyes were wide open. She was still, so still. When I touched her, she didn?t move. I pushed her shoulder. She didn?t move. I realized she was dead.? Matts voice stayed steady. ?I backed up and saw her pink panties lying on the floor crumpled up beside her shoes. She usually wore pink panties. She still had her skirt on. I picked up the panties and sat down on the bed next to her.?