Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 44, No. 7 & 8, July/August 1999

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Lieutenant Dean March stared at Lacy DeBeck lying facedown on the rug in his library, a red stain spreading out from his chest. A few feet from DeBeck was a leather armchair and a small table with a half-finished glass of whisky and a magazine, Tennis. A second armchair with its own table and glass stood opposite the first chair. Dean’s chief, Bunk Cummins, was measuring the body’s position with a tape.

Dean left the body and went to a tall woman standing by a set of french doors that led onto a balcony. She had introduced herself as Trish Hazelton, a name that rang a faint bell in the back of his head. White-haired and straight-backed, she stared bleakly across the lawn toward a red clay tennis court. “Poor Tiffany,” she murmured.

“Tiffany?” said Dean.

“That’s my granddaughter. She’s supposed to meet me here any minute. She has Wednesdays off from her regular job at Brooks Drugs and was going to help me clean. When she sees this...” Mrs. Hazelton sighed. “Tiffany isn’t much for violence. Well, who is?”

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