A few minutes later she got up and went to the phone. She knew the number of the police station, and when the man at the other end answered, she cried to him. "Quick! Come quick! Patrick's dead!" "Who's speaking?" "Mrs Maloney. Mrs Patrick Maloney." "You mean Patrick Maloney's dead?" "I think so," she sobbed. "He's lying on the floor and I think he's dead." "Be right over," the man said. The car came very quickly, and when she opened the front door, two policemen walked in. She knew them both--she knew nearly all the men at that precinct. Briefly, she told her story about going out to the grocer and coming back to find him on the floor. While she was talking, crying and talking, Noonan discovered a small patch of congealed blood on the dead man's head. He showed it to O'Malley who got up at once and hurried to the phone. Later, one of the detectives came up and sat beside her. Did she know, he asked, of anything in the house that could've been used as the weapon? Would she mind having a look around to see if anything was missing--a very big spanner, for example, or a heavy metal vase. They didn't have any heavy metal vases, she said. "Or a big spanner  ?" She didn't think they had a big spanner. But there might be some things like that in the garage. The search went on. She knew that there were other policemen in the garden all around the house. She could hear their footsteps on the gravel outside, and sometimes she saw the flash of a torchlight through a chink in the curtains. Then one by one they came in and were persuaded to take a little nip of whisky. They stood around rather awkwardly with the drinks in their hands, uncomfortable in her presence, trying to say consoling things to her. Sergeant Noonan wandered into the kitchen, came out quickly and said. "Look, Mrs Maloney. You know that oven of yours is still on, and the meat still inside...I better turn it off for you, hadn't I?" "Will you do that, Jack. Thank you so much." When the sergeant returned the second time, she looked at him with her large, dark, tearful eyes. "Would you do me a small favour--you and these others?" She said. "We can try, Mrs Maloney." "Well," she said. "You must be terribly hungry by now because it's long past your supper time. Why don't you eat up that lamb that's in the oven? It'll be cooked just right by now." "Wouldn't dream of it," Sergeant Noonan said. "Please," she begged. "Please eat it." The four policemen _ , but they were clearly hungry, and in the end they were persuaded to go into the kitchen and help themselves. The woman stayed where she was, listening to them through the open door, and she could hear them speaking among themselves, their voices thick and sloppy because their mouths were full of meat. "The guy must've used a big thing to hit Patrick," one of them was saying. "The doctor says his skull was smashed all to pieces." "That's why it ought to be easy to find." "Exactly what I say." "The murderer's not going to carrying a thing like that around with him longer than he needs." One of them belched. "Personally, I think it's right here on the premises." "Probably right under our very noses. What you think, Jack?" And in the other room, Mary Maloney began to giggle. What could you learn about Mrs Maloney from the passage?
She is a careless person who may not notice subtle sound. She was in the kitchen when the officers enjoyed the lamb. She was very familiar with the policemen and the officers. She put the lamb into the oven before her husband died.