was called in and Naia North dictated
a complete statement which she signed. Troy questioned her for nearly
two hours, getting in every possible angle of her private life as well
as minute details of her actions on the day of the murders. Kirk had not
been present during that part of the night, but he figured it wouldn't
be much different from what he'd heard many times before.

He mixed himself a drink, and was surprised to discover that his hands
were shaking noticeably. Well, why not? A day like the one he'd just
been through would put the shakes in Grant's Tomb. Even as he made the
excuse, he knew it wasn't the real reason. There had been cases that had
kept him on his feet for as much as forty-eight hours--cases where men
had pointed guns at him and pulled the triggers--and the shakes never
came.

No, it was the girl. Naia North. Naia--a strange name. But no stranger
than the girl herself. Now how about that? Why should he think her
strange? Because she'd taken a life or two? Hell, lots of people did
that and no one called them strange. Criminal or unmoral or greedy or
angry, yes. But not strange. She looked like other women--only a lot
better. She dressed like them, walked like them, talked like them. So
why strange?

Because she _was_ strange. Nothing you could put your finger on made her
that way, but that's the way she was.

He threw his cigar savagely into the fireplace. He went over and made
another drink and poured it down fast and another one after it, right on
its heels. Then he went to bed. Tomorrow--today, rather--was a work day
and work days were tough days and he needed his rest.

He didn't get much of it, though. The phone woke him a few minutes after
seven o'clock. It was Arthur Kahler Troy at the other end and the D. A.
was too angry to be coherent.

It seemed Naia North had disappeared from her locked cell during the
night.

Chapter III

"I don't give a triple-distilled damn _what_ you say!" Troy snarled.
"Nobody's got enough money to make that kind of payoff. Five men,
Lieutenant--five men and five locked doors stood between that girl and
the street. And you sit there and try to tell me somebody bought all
_five_ of 'em off!"

"Then," Kirk said heatedly, "what's _your_ explanation?"

It had been going on this way for over an hour. The morning sun came in
weakly at the window behind Troy's huge polished mahogany desk, picking
up random reflections from the collection of expensi