Murder is murder

     "I'd like you to come, Jean," Patrick insisted.

    "If you think I'm playing guinea pig - "

    "Please!"

    "It goes against the grain," I said. "Of all the people mixed up in this business, the doctor's the one I feel sorriest for. I don't suppose he's much, maybe he's been nothing but a shadow of a doctor all his life, but maybe that's Mrs. Lake's fault. If he did it, I say let him go and good luck!"

    "Jeanie," Patrick said, and his voice had a tender note, "if it relieves your mind any, I feel sorry for him myself."

    Instantly, because of the way he said it, all the pieces of the puzzle flowed together, each in its place. The clues led to Annie, Claire continued to be a mystery, Val might or might not be guilty of manslaughter, Ernest Fabian was the one my mind wanted to pin murder on, or Emma, but Dr. Fearheiley was the answer to all the questions.

    I got out and followed Patrick up the brick walk. I didn't like it, but murder is murder.

(from The Golden Box, by Frances Crane)