Nothing like the direct approach, she thought. He did not so much cut into this conversation as loom over it, for he was a tall, if rather studiously stooping, man. All her tender lures, inherent and acquired, had shattered themselves futilely against the reserve he had set between them. But she was disappointed. “Now you must go,” she said firmly. She gaped at its keep, at least ten feet tall, a frightening gray coffin turned upright. We are asking you questions today because Sheila and Mark McCloskey had a foster child who we assume was probably your natural mother. The Idle Apprentice II. The gong will go at seven-thirty. ’ Both hands about the butt of her unwieldy pistol, Melusine glared at him.
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