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ner and an evening at the symphony. |
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"Mr. Walcott," she said in a low, weary voice, "I saw what happened. The car swerved almost all the way across the street to hit Pierre. It was murder." |
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The Canadian glanced uneasily across the waiting area to where a man in a police lieutenant's uniform was engaged in murmured conversation with an FBI agent named Cantwell and a tall, slender, dark-haired man Walcott did not recognize. |
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"A hit-and-run case to be sure, Mrs. Neville. But hardly murder," Walcott said reproachfully. He was tempted to say that she apparently had chosen a way of life that drew misfortunes, but he decided against it. It would be offensive to point out such an obvious truth. |
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"Have you told the CCND, Mr. Walcott?" |
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"They will be notified by the Ministry. Did Mr. Grau have a family? Other than yourself?." |
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"Mr. Grau and I are not related, Mr. Walcott." |
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"Of course, I did not mean to imply" Walcott flushed in confusion. From what he had been told, he naturally assumed that Neville and the lawyer were "involved." Anna Neville was, well, not exactly a nun. She was not conventionally pretty, but now that he looked more closely, she did have something. Could you call it sex appeal? Such an old-fashioned phrase. |
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He said, "There's no family?" |
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No, Anna thought, Pierre had no one. No one but the fellow zealots of the CCND. A fanatical loyalty to what he called "The Movement" dominated his life. He had been an unattractive, arrogant, pedantic sort of man who had found a home in the CCND. Now he had found his death, never knowing at whose hand and in what service it came. She closed her eyes for a moment, overcome by a wave of lassitude before she answered. "No family," Anna said. |
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"That's a blessing, at least," Walcott said. |
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