The room was quite dark when my partner and I arrived. The man who met us at the door, looked guilty. He was extremely nervous and stuttered when we asked who he was.

"I...I'mmm, Walter. I liiive next dddoor."

"Walter, I'm Detective Gannon and this is my partner, Detective Reed. Are you okay, Walter? You seem a little on edge."

"I...I'm Scarrred."

"How old are you Walter? You look quite young."

"I'm eightttteen."

"So, why are you scared?"

"Miss Greer is dead."

"Why are you here, Walter? Were you with her when she was killed?"

"Gooooodnessss, no."

"Then how did you get in? You opened the door for us when we arrived."

Just as Walter was going to speak, a man walked into the apartment. "Walter, don't say another word."

"Who are you?"

"Walter's father. Come son, I told you not to speak to that harlot. What has she done now?"

"Listen, Mr...?"

"Thatcher."

"Mr. Thatcher, Walter isn't going anywhere right now. He's going to tell us what he knows about Miss Greer's death."

"She's dead?"

"Very."

"That's too bad. I mean, she was nice enough, but she had lots of men visiting her apartment, if you know what I mean."

"Are you saying she was a Lady of the Night?"

"Well, look around. The whole apartment is covered with a mirror on each wall, in the bedroom, the bathroom, just everywhere."

"And you would know this, how?"

"The building superintendent told me. He has to fix her thermostat and couldn't believe what she did with the place. He told me she's always in a negligee of some sort when she comes to the door, wears very revealing clothing and high heels all the time."

"Have you ever been in her apartment, Mr. Thatcher?"

"Twice, both times to get Walter. He liked to speak with her about things. They got along very well. He said she was extremely bright."

Turning to Walter, Detective Gannon asked: "Walter, what types of things did you and Ms. Greer, discuss?"

"Lots of things. I enjoyed speaking to her about the books she's written."

"What kind of books?"

"Psychology. She was a Professor at NYU for ten years, before her husband died. She quit after he died and moved here from Westchester to sort out her emotions. Did you know she was a member of MENSA?"

"So, she was grieving, smart and unemployed. Your father said she was a call girl."

"My father says a lot of things."

"I'm curious to know why your stuttering stopped, Walter. Since you've been talking about Miss Greer, you haven't stuttered once."

'She was helping me with that. She was teaching me how to focus on an issue, rather than worry about misspeaking."

"It still doesn't explain why you were in her apartment when we got here."

"We're done here, Detective. Walter is not saying another word, until he speaks with his lawyer."

"Is that true, Walter? Is daddy answering for you or are you going to talk to us?"

"I'm eighteen, dad. I don't need your permission."

"Walter, think about this. What are you going to say?"

"Why, are you worried? Should you be? I saw how you would always look at Miss Greer. You judged her on how she dressed, how many people visited her apartment, and how you thought she was not the kind of person who should be living next to us. Come to think of it dad, it almost looked like you were stalking her."

"That's ridiculous. I'm not going to stand here and listen to your rubbish."

"Mr. Thatcher, where were you this evening?"

"I don't believe this. You're going to listen to my son, who obviously was under the spell of this woman? Don't you see he's trying to point the finger at me? Nice, Walter. Real nice."

"You haven't answered the question, Mr. Thatcher."

"I was in my apartment. I heard her fall down and break a glass."

"You could hear her fall down and a glass breaking from your apartment?"

"Yes."

"Mr. Thatcher, where were you in your apartment, when you heard this?"

"My kitchen."

"Dad, how could you hear it if you were in our kitchen? That's through four walls. Our kitchen isn't on the opposite side of hers. There are two living rooms in between and all those walls. She also has her painting studio in there. "

"Walter. I heard it."

"It just doesn't make sense, dad."

"To me either, Mr. Thatcher. You'd have to have more than perfect hearing to say you heard her fall, four or five rooms away. And how did you know she broke a glass, unless you were there?"

"You think I killed her?"

"The thought did cross my mind."

"That's preposterous."

"Why do you think she fell? Mr. Thatcher?"

"I don't know, maybe it was that blood red, sheer lingerie dress she was wearing. Perhaps she tripped on it."

"Mr. Thatcher, when did you see Miss Greer in her red lingerie dress?"

Detective Gannon watched Mr. Thatcher's eyes when he was talking about the red lingerie dress. Immediately after he said it, the detective noticed Mr. Thatcher's eyes dilate. His whole manner changed. He was lying.

The change was subtle, but to the veteran police officer, he knew he was looking at the killer.

"So that's why you told me you heard a strange noise next door. You knew I would check on Miss Greer. Why did you kill her? She was my friend."

"She told me she was going to tell your mother about my midnight visits to her apartment if I didn't let her help you with your stuttering problem. She said you were one of the only people she looked forward to seeing everyday, since you never wanted anything from her, except to talk. I couldn't take the chance of your mother finding out I was paying her for sex."

"Mr. Thatcher, you're under arrest for the murder of Miss Greer. Place your hands behind your back."

Everyone heard the click clack of high heels coming down the hallway. A beautiful woman appeared in the doorway of Miss Greer's apartment.

"Walter, Peter, what's going on here? Walter, why is your father in handcuff's?"

"Looks like you're going to be the one that has to tell her now, dad."