I darted a glance around. The barber chairs were all empty. Fickler and three of the barbers, Jimmie, Ed, and Philip, were seated along the row of waiting chairs, in their white jackets, each with a dick beside him. Tom was not in view. Other city employees were scattered around.
Purley had guided me to the corner by the cash register. 'How long have you known that Janet Stahl?' he demanded.
I shook my head reproachfully. 'Not that way. You said I was needed, and I came on the run. If you merely want my biography, call at the office any time during hours. If you call me Archie, even after hours.'
'Cut the comedy. How long have you known her?'
'No, sir. I know a lawyer. Lay a foundation.'
Purley's right shoulder twitched. It was only a reflex of his impulse to sock me, beyond his control and therefore nothing to resent. 'Some day,' he said, setting his jaw and then releasing it. 'She was found on the floor of her booth, out from a blow on her head. We brought her to, and she can talk but she won't. She won't tell us anything. She says she don't know us. She says she won't talk to anybody except her friend Archie Goodwin. How long have you known her?'
'I'm touched,' I said with emotion. 'Until today I've merely leered at her, with no conversation or bodily contact
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of any kind. The only chat I've ever had with her was here today under your eye, but look what it did to her. Is it any wonder my opinion of myself is what it is?'
'Listen, Goodwin, we're after a murderer.'
'I know you are. I'm all for it.'
'You've never seen her outside this shop?'
'No.'
'That can be checked maybe. Right now we want you to get her to talk. Goddam her, she's stopped us dead. Come on.' He moved.
I caught his elbow. 'Hold it. If she sticks to it that she'll only talk with me I'll have to think up questions. I ought to know what happened.'
'Yeah.' Purley wanted no more delay, but obviously I had a point. 'There were only three of us left, me here at the front, and Joffe and Sullivan there on chairs. The barbers were all working on customers. Fickler was moving around. I was on the phone half the time. We had squeezed out everything we could here, for the present anyhow, and it was a letdown, you know how that is.'
'Where was Janet?'
'I'm telling you. Toracco, that's Philip, finished with a customer, and a new one got in his chair--we were letting regular customers in. The new one wanted a manicure, and Toracco called Janet, but she didn't come. Fickler was helping the outgoing customer on with his coat. Toracco went behind the partition to get Janet, and there she was on the floor of her booth, cold. She had gone there fifteen minutes before, possibly twenty. I think all of them had gone behind the partition at least once during that time.'
'You think?'
'Yes, I think.'
'It must have been quite a letdown.'
'I said I was on the phone a lot. Joffe and Sullivan will not be jumped up, and don't they know it. You know damn well how much we like it, her getting bopped with three of us right here.'
'How bad is she hurt?' too 'Not enough for the hospital. Doc let us keep her here. She was hit above the right ear with a bottle taken from the supply shelf against the partition, six feet from the entrance to her booth. The bottle was big and heavy, full of oil. It was there by her on the floor.'
'Prints?'
'For God's sake, start a school. He had a towel in his hand or something. Come on.'
'One second. What did the doctor say when you asked him if she could have been just testing her skull?'
'He said it was possible but he doubted it. Come and ask er.
Feeling that I had enough for a basis for conversation, I followed him. As we went toward the partition all the barbers and dicks along the row of chairs gave us looks, none of them cheerful. Fickler was absolutely forlorn.
I had never been behind the partition before. The space ran about half the length of the shop. Against the partition were steamers, vats, lamps, and other paraphernalia, and then a series of cupboards and shelves. Across a wide aisle were the manicure booths, four of them, though I had never seen more than two operators in the shop. As we passed the entrance to the first booth in the line a glance showed me Inspector Cramer seated at a little table across from Tom, the barber with white hair. Cramer saw me and arose. I followed Purley to the third booth, and on in. Then steps came behind me, and Cramer was there.
It was a big booth, eight by eight, but was now crowded. In addition to us three and the furniture, a city employee was standing in a corner, and, on a row of chairs lined up against the right wall, Janet Stahl was lying on her back, her head resting on a stack of towels. She had moved her eyes, but not her head, to take in us visitors. She looked beautiful.
'Here's your friend Goodwin,' Purley told her, trying to sound sympathetic.
'Hello there,' I said professionally. 'What does this mean?'
The long home-grown lashes fluttered at me. 'You,' she said.
IOI
