When she turned around she showed a good looking set of features. She had dark brown hair coming in bangs to the eyebrows, and her eyes were gold-hazel. Her mouth was a little too wide, but still she was a good looking girl. She was in her late twenties. "Just who are you and what is the meaning of this?" she said. "My name is Frey, and I'm a friend of Harry Duggin." "Is that so?" she said. "How is Harry?" "He's dead." She blinked a few times and then she said, "What happened--and when?" Frey said, "He was murdered--this morning. Knifed." She blinked a few more times and then she looked at the floor for a few seconds. Frey was watching her and then he was glancing sideways to a little jade box that held cigarettes. He took one up, eased a stray safety match from his vest pocket, flicked it with his fingernail, and lit up. He took a few deep drags and said, "I got an idea that you know something, Miss Rillette." Her face showed no emotion as she said, "I thought you said you were a friend of Harry's. You sound more like a detective." "That's right. Harry was a good friend of mine. We went to law school together. He became a successful corporation lawyer and I starved for a while and then I became a private detective. I lost touch with Harry for a year or so and then last week he called me up and asked me to do a favor for him. He asked me to follow you." She said, "Indeed?" "That's right. He must have been looking around for a private dick and then he found out that I was in business and he asked me to follow you. He said that in return for the favor he would give me one hundred and fifty bucks. So you see, Miss Rillette, I have nothing against you personally. I just have to make a living, that's all." "Why did he want you to follow me?" "You don't have to ask me that, Miss Rillette. You know the answer. In fact, you know all the answers. I found that out through seven days of following you." She blinked some more and then she reached out to the little jade box and took a cigarette. Frey flicked one of his safety matches with his fingernail and gave her a light. "What am I supposed to say?" she murmured. He knew he was going to have trouble with this girl. "You don't have to say anything. I'll write out a confession outline and you sign it. If you want to, you can fill all the gaps. But what I want most is a signed confession--" "What did you say you were?" she murmured. "A private detective." "Beginner, aren't you?" That made him sort of sore. But he swallowed it and said, "Maybe, but I'm not an amateur. I make a living out of this." She blinked and dragged half-heartedly at the cigarette and then she turned and looked at the marble she was doing. She looked back at Frey and her eyes were tired as she said, "How close did you follow me?"