Allie sighed, stood up, and plodded barefoot from the bedroom. The floor was hard and unyielding beneath her soles. She could feel the individual cracks between strips of wood. She returned to the bedroom to get her slippers, but she couldn’t find them. Hedra had been wearing them last night; maybe they were in her room.
But the slippers were nowhere in sight in Hedra’s bedroom. Allie peeked beneath the bed. Nothing there. Not even dust. She walked to the closet to see if compulsively neat Hedra had placed the slippers in there.
A moment after she opened the closet door she stepped back in surprise. The clothes. Hedra’s clothes. They looked so much like … they
Allie turned and hurried to her own room. She flung open the closet doors.
Her clothes were there, as they’d always been.
She sat down on the edge of the mattress, gazing at the rows of dresses, blouses, and slacks on hangers. There were a few variations in color and material from Hedra’s closet, but not many.
Wherever possible, Hedra had bought exact duplicates of Allie’s clothes.
Allie sat very still on the edge of the bed, wondering what it meant.
Later that day she phoned Sam and told him about it. He seemed more amused than alarmed. “What the girl wears is her business,” he said, “and you know how she idolizes you.”
“She does idolize me,” Allie said. “More than I find comfortable.”
Sam laughed. “You deserve it. Have I ever told you that?”
Allie had to smile, remembering. “Yeah, you’ve told me.”
“Meant it, too.”
“Seeing Hedra’s clothes this morning, after losing my credit cards last night, is what’s got me rattled, I guess.”
“You lost your credit cards? As in Master and Visa?”
“Yeah. I don’t know how.”
“Get the cards back?”
“No, they might have been stolen.”
“Better phone in the numbers.”
“I already have. I notified the police, too.”
“Well, your liability’s limited when you lose credit cards, and maybe they’ll turn up.”
“I can’t use them if they do; I have to wait for replacements. That’ll take a while.”
“By the way, Allie, I’ve got some bad news.”
Her heart took a dive. “Bad news? Dammit, Sam, that’s not what I need this morning.”
“Christ, not that bad.” He laughed. “I only meant I have to be away for a couple of weeks. A conference in Milwaukee, then a junk-bond seminar in Los Angeles. Can you live without me?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Well, I can’t live without you. Not for more than a few weeks. I’ll phone you.”
“You’d better,” she said.
“Try not to worry so much, okay, lover?”
“Sure. That’s probably good advice.”
Loudly, only half-jokingly, he blew a kiss into the receiver.
When she hung up on Sam, the phone rang almost immediately. She thought it might be Sam, calling her back to say something he’d forgotten.
But as soon as she picked up the phone she knew it wasn’t Sam.
No voice on the other end of the connection, only heavy, uneven breathing.
Then, “Allie, baby? Sweet Buns? I know it’s you. Soon we’re gonna—”
She slammed the receiver into its cradle.
Chapter 17
DISGUSTING habit, Detective Sergeant Will Kennedy thought. And I’m disgusting for indulging.
He snubbed out his cigar in the ashtray, knowing even then that he’d soon light another despite his doctor’s advice to stop smoking. Sitting at his desk in the squad room, he peered through the noxious haze hovering above the ashtray. A woman was standing at the wooden restraining rail that ran parallel to the booking desk. She leaned forward, her pelvis against the rail, and spoke earnestly and rapidly, as if she wanted to get her story out in a hurry.
Kennedy watched Sergeant Morrow listen to her in his patient, speculative way, then say something and point in Kennedy’s direction. The woman smiled at Morrow, and walked purposefully toward Kennedy.
Davis, who was working undercover in Narcotics and looked like a street punk, blatantly leered at her. It didn’t matter, Kennedy figured, she’d think he was a suspect and not a cop. The other detectives and a couple of uniforms contented themselves with sly glances in her direction. This was a busy precinct, but there was always time to appreciate beauty in the midst of police work. For the contrast.
