I thought of Barbara with a flash of guilt.
“I guess it proves something,” I said. “You can drive anybody to murder.”
“It proves something else,” Rita said. “Murphy’s law.”
“Which one?”
“Time wounds all heels.”
Ruby lived on Capitol Hill, in the 1300 block of Humboldt. I parked out front on the street, and told Rita to stay put.
The apartment was on the third floor. Ruby’s face was still full of sleep as he opened the door. “Who the hell’s this? Dr. J?” He was in that early-morning fog common to nighthawks, trying valiantly to jump-start his heart with a third cup of coffee. He waved me to a chair, handed me a coffee cup, nodded to the pot simmering on the stove, and disappeared into the John. I heard water splashing and a moment later the toilet flushed. I poured myself a cup, looked around, and sat in the chair. It was a neat place, which surprised me. I could see back into the bedroom, which was also neat except for the unmade bed. It was a plain apartment, almost stark, with high ceilings and old- fashioned radiator steam heating. There were framed nudes on the walls, four lovely Weston prints that added to the bare landscape. I liked it: could’ve lived there myself.
Ruby came out, fastening his shirt. He still looked foggy, disjointed. He sat and sipped his coffee and only gradually seemed to remember that he had company.
“What’s goin‘ on? What’re you doin’ out here this time o‘ day?”
“How long’s it take you to wake up?”
“Hour… two. I don’t get started till the day’s half gone. Gotta open the damn store this week. Neff’s supposed to be opening, but he still don’t feel good. I think he wants to stay away from there, if you ask me. This thing’s got him scared plenty. Want some coffee?”
“Got some.”
“Oh.”
I leaned toward him, the cup clasped in my hands, warming them. “I want to ask you a few more questions.”
At that point I had only one essential question. But an idea had begun forming in my mind.
“Tell me about those books again, Ruby.”
“What books?”
“The ones Neff bought in Broomfield the day Peter and Pinky were killed.”
“Like what more do you want to know?”
“It was a woman, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah. Lady moving out of town.”
“Did you talk to this woman?”
“On the phone, sure.”
“Recognize her voice?”
“Why should I? I never met the lady.”
“Did her voice sound like anybody you might know?”
“Jeez, I can’t remember. I wasn’t thinking in that context. She was just a voice on the phone.”
“How much did the buy cost you?”
“Fifteen hundred. And if you think that wasn’t a bitch to get up on the spur of the moment…”
“How did you get it up?”
“Well, there’s still a guy or two who’ll loan me money. We wholesaled a few items. Neff borrowed the rest.”
“How much did each of you borrow?”
“All’s I could get was a couple of bills. We wholesaled a couple of books for three. Neff had to come up with a grand.”
“Where’d he get the grand?”
“Hell, he’s got his friends, I’ve got mine.”
“How’d you hear about this woman in the first place?”
“She called us cold. Saw our name in the phone book.”
“When was this?”
“That same morning.”
“So you must’ve put the deal together in an hour or two.”
