grab us. I’m not waiting around any longer.” The sound of the front door opening announced that Bianca was returning. Quickly Rosemary thrust a long, flat key in my hand. “Here it is,” she whispered. “You keep it” Turning away from me, she added over her shoulder, “You know how to reach me.”
Hastily she put the length of the room between us as Bianca entered. “Bee, darling,” Rosemary said, “are you still doing errands this time of night?” Her voice was strained.
“I don’t mind,” Bianca replied.
“I’m running right back out,” Rosemary said. “I’m not even going to bother to change.” Rosemary looked directly at me, and said, “Good night.” Her steps echoed down the hall, and in a moment the front door closed.
“How odd!” Bianca exclaimed. I didn’t say anything.
Later that same evening the telephone rang. Bianca and I were sitting at the round table listening to records. The call was from Rosemary, and she talked to Bianca. I paid little attention to the conversation, but when Bianca returned her face was both hurt and puzzled. “Did you and Rosemary have a fight while I was gone?” she asked.
I told her no.
“On the phone just now she said that she was going away for a while. She isn’t even coming back tonight to get her clothes.”
I wrote on my pad, “She can’t go very far in one dress.”
“Rosemary said she had some other clothes in storage which she would get tomorrow.” Abruptly her face became thoughtful, and she gazed levelly at me across the table. “Tell me honestly, Vic, is there anything between you and Rosemary?”
“No.”
“I always thought that Rosemary felt uneasy about you. I couldn’t understand it because I like you very much. It’s occurred to me that you might have known each other.” Writing on my pad I told her, “I do not recall having ever seen Rosemary before I came to this house.”
“If you had known her,” Bianca was bemused, “why would Rosemary pretend not to know you?”
I didn’t know why, but I remembered something else I wanted to ask Bianca. Via my pad, “The night I was nearly murdered are you sure Rosemary was in Chicago?”
“Oh, yes.” Bianca assured me. “She called me from Chicago earlier that afternoon. She wanted me to airmail her some things she’d forgotten to pack. Her job came up in such a hurry that she had practically no warning of it.”
“Why?”
“Well, actually she hadn’t applied for the job. The day the fashion show was ready to leave for Chicago, one of the models became sick. At the last moment the fashion director called Rosemary to take her place. Rosemary had to rush like mad to get the plane.”
“Oh.” One event fell sharply into place. I had been meant as a warning to Rosemary. Unexpectedly she had not been present when my body had been delivered.
12
THE desolate, bleak dawn edged slowly behind the buildings of the city, picking out a fire escape here, a chimney there. It seeped slowly into skylights and windows, edging doorways, silhouetting poles. Burrows sipped his coffee. He decided that it tasted foul because of the cardboard container. For a moment he considered the possibility of throwing it away; then he changed his mind and decided to drink it because it was hot. The phone on his desk rang loudly, and he reached out his hand to pick it up. “Burrows, Eight, precinct,” he said.
It was Jensen. “I just got a call from Gorman,” Jensen said, “and he found something. When they got the stiff to the lab, Gorman removed the socks and shoes for further examination. In one shoe he found a thousand-dollar bill.”
Burrows digested both his mouthful of coffee and information. “Was the bill concealed in the sole of the shoe he asked.
“Not sewed into the sole, or anything like that,” Jensen replied. “It was just laying inside the shoe with the foot and sock resting on it.”
“Is the bill a phony?”
“It looks plenty good,” Jensen replied. “I
Hastily she put the length of the room between us as Bianca entered. “Bee, darling,” Rosemary said, “are you still doing errands this time of night?” Her voice was strained.
“I don’t mind,” Bianca replied.
“I’m running right back out,” Rosemary said. “I’m not even going to bother to change.” Rosemary looked directly at me, and said, “Good night.” Her steps echoed down the hall, and in a moment the front door closed.
“How odd!” Bianca exclaimed. I didn’t say anything.
Later that same evening the telephone rang. Bianca and I were sitting at the round table listening to records. The call was from Rosemary, and she talked to Bianca. I paid little attention to the conversation, but when Bianca returned her face was both hurt and puzzled. “Did you and Rosemary have a fight while I was gone?” she asked.
I told her no.
“On the phone just now she said that she was going away for a while. She isn’t even coming back tonight to get her clothes.”
I wrote on my pad, “She can’t go very far in one dress.”
“Rosemary said she had some other clothes in storage which she would get tomorrow.” Abruptly her face became thoughtful, and she gazed levelly at me across the table. “Tell me honestly, Vic, is there anything between you and Rosemary?”
“No.”
“I always thought that Rosemary felt uneasy about you. I couldn’t understand it because I like you very much. It’s occurred to me that you might have known each other.” Writing on my pad I told her, “I do not recall having ever seen Rosemary before I came to this house.”
“If you had known her,” Bianca was bemused, “why would Rosemary pretend not to know you?”
I didn’t know why, but I remembered something else I wanted to ask Bianca. Via my pad, “The night I was nearly murdered are you sure Rosemary was in Chicago?”
“Oh, yes.” Bianca assured me. “She called me from Chicago earlier that afternoon. She wanted me to airmail her some things she’d forgotten to pack. Her job came up in such a hurry that she had practically no warning of it.”
“Why?”
“Well, actually she hadn’t applied for the job. The day the fashion show was ready to leave for Chicago, one of the models became sick. At the last moment the fashion director called Rosemary to take her place. Rosemary had to rush like mad to get the plane.”
“Oh.” One event fell sharply into place. I had been meant as a warning to Rosemary. Unexpectedly she had not been present when my body had been delivered.
12
THE desolate, bleak dawn edged slowly behind the buildings of the city, picking out a fire escape here, a chimney there. It seeped slowly into skylights and windows, edging doorways, silhouetting poles. Burrows sipped his coffee. He decided that it tasted foul because of the cardboard container. For a moment he considered the possibility of throwing it away; then he changed his mind and decided to drink it because it was hot. The phone on his desk rang loudly, and he reached out his hand to pick it up. “Burrows, Eight, precinct,” he said.
It was Jensen. “I just got a call from Gorman,” Jensen said, “and he found something. When they got the stiff to the lab, Gorman removed the socks and shoes for further examination. In one shoe he found a thousand-dollar bill.”
Burrows digested both his mouthful of coffee and information. “Was the bill concealed in the sole of the shoe he asked.
“Not sewed into the sole, or anything like that,” Jensen replied. “It was just laying inside the shoe with the foot and sock resting on it.”
“Is the bill a phony?”
“It looks plenty good,” Jensen replied. “I
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