They might say the whole thing is a hoax."
"Very well," I agreed, and went in.
The police sergeant in charge knew me at once, having stopped at my
house more than once in flood-time for a cup of hot coffee.
"Sit down, Mrs. Pitman," he said. "I suppose you are still making the
best coffee and doughnuts in the city of Allegheny? Well, what's the
trouble in your district? Want an injunction against the river for
trespass?"
"The river has brought me a good bit of trouble," I said. "I'm--I'm
worried, Mr. Sergeant. I think a woman from my house has been
murdered, but I don't know."
"Murdered," he said, and drew up his chair. "Tell me about it."
I told him everything, while he sat back with his eyes half closed,
and his fingers beating a tattoo on the arm of his chair.
When I finished he got up and went into an inner room. He came back in
a moment.
"I want you to come in and tell that to the chief," he said, and led
the way.
All told, I repeated my story three times that afternoon, to the
sergeant, to the chief of police, and the third time to both the
others and two detectives.
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