Her fingers looked swollen and she had blood around the nails of her right hand. A dark bruise covered the third knuckle of the pinky finger. A wound Gwen recognized immediately. It happened sometimes when a person unused to fighting hit something hard. The finger may be broken, she knew, having done it herself a time or two, when she was young and being attacked on the school playground by bullies. Looking over her shoulder at Detective Haversham, the meaner looking of the two detectives, she winked, hoping he'd get the air of all this and play along. “Bertie? Would you be a dear and get my coat for me? I think it might work better for Miss... Sorry, I didn't get your name...” “Laura Zourller... ma'am.” The voice came out quiet, so soft it was almost hard to make out the words clearly. “No need to call me ma'am. I'm just Gwen, you know... Anyway, is it alright, do you think, if Bertie gets my coat?” A soft nod came again.
