“I’m sure she’ll like it very much, Lisa.” Ten-to-one her parents wouldn’t let her go, he thought to himself.
Aaron Harris was a cold fish and his wife wasn’t much warmer.
“The Albrechts,” Lisa added suddenly. “Are they in, too?”
Jernigan held out his hands helplessly. “I think so, Miss Mueller, but you know I can’t ring them; they’d never hear me. I don’t have them down on my checkout list, though.”
“That’s really too bad about them,” Rosette interrupted, “being deaf and dumb like that. I can’t imagine what it would be like not being able to talk to my husband.”
Jernigan smiled. “I bet he can’t imagine what it would be like, either, though I bet he’d give a lot to find out.” He suddenly became serious. “They can’t hear or talk to their three kids, either-that must be pretty rough.”
“That’s not true,” Lisolette objected. “They all know sign language, even the youngest.”
“That’s not quite the same, Lisolette,” Claiborne said, slightly testy. He suddenly sneezed.
“You know sign language, Miss Mueller?” Jernigan asked.
“A little. It’s not hard to pick up and it can really be very expressive.” She grew thoughtful for a moment.
“And when there’s a lot of love in a family, perhaps you don’t have to say so much.” She glanced at her wrist watch and made a slight sound of dismay. “My, I had no idea it was so late-Schiller will be expecting his dinner and he’ll be angry.” She turned and walked briskly toward the elevator bank. “Have a pleasant evening, Rosie.
You’ll call me at nine, Harlee? And you’ve made reservations at the Promenade Room?”
“Of course, my dear-we’re hardly going out on a night like tonight.”
A moment later, Lisolette Mueller was gone, the faint odor of lilacs and Ivory soap hanging in the air like mist.
“Remarkable woman,” Harlee Claiborne murmured quietly, “a truly remarkable woman.”
“She’s really something,” Jernigan agreed. He had mixed feelings toward Claiborne and wasn’t altogether happy that Lisa had apparently picked him as a companion. Did they call it dating at their age? he wondered.
Well, why not,. He noticed that Rosie was sticking around by his desk, glancing at Claiborne from under lowered lids-which meant that she knew something he didn’t and would tell him as soon as Claiborne had left.
“From St. Louis, isn’t she?” Claiborne asked casually.
“Retired schoolteacher?”
“Didn’t she tell you?” Jernigan was carefully distant.
Claiborne grew confidential. “It must be difficult for a woman her age to make ends meet. In,flation eats away at your pension and it’s difficult to get along unless you have a little something extra put away, or a small inheritance, that sort of thing.”
“I wouldn’t know, Mr. Claiborne,” Jernigan said formally. “Miss Mueller doesn’t spend her money foolishly.
Claiborne snapped his fingers as if he had suddenly remembered something. “She did say something about the family business, a brewery, I believe, that was absorbed by a larger company.”
Jernigan suddenly decided to let his education show.
“I really wouldn’t know,” he said coldly. “The tenants’ personal lives are their own; I don’t intrude or ask questions.”
Claiborne realized, too late, that he had gone too far.
“Yes, of course, that’s the only proper attitude.” He started for the elevators, then abruptly turned before he reached the bank. “She’s a fine woman,” he said simply.
“I like her very much.” It was a half apology for his deliberate questioning and Jernigan was startled by its unexpected sincerity.
After he was gone, Rosette snorted indignantly. “I bet he likes her-likes her money, he means. That deadbeat hasn’t paid his rent in two months; he’s nothing but a gold digger.”
“Gigolo,” Jernigan corrected. “Gold diggers are women.” He suddenly looked at her accusingly. “Been snooping again, Rosie?”
“Harry, he’s got three shirts and one good.suit and a bureau full of dust! Now you tell me, what is he? Don’t you think I’ve met guys like him before?”
“I didn’t know you went for the older types, Rosie.”
Jernigan looked up at her, curious. “How come you know all this about him?”
“The head housekeeper’s a friend of mine and Captain, Harriman was wondering whether Claiborne was going to skip or not so one day when Harlee was out, she let herself in to check.”
Captain Harriman was a good manager, Jernigan thought. Which meant that a credit check in depth was being conducted on Claiborne right then, and he probably had less than a week to go before he was tossed out on his ear. Lisa might be hurt but in the long run it would probably be for the better.
Rosie suddenly leaned closer and lowered her voice.
“Time for me to split, handsome; here comes Miss America of 1964.
See you later.” She turned and smiled, said, “Good evening, Miss Elmon,” in a loud voice, and disappeared into the elevators.
Deirdre Elmon was tall, red-haired, and looked like she had stepped out of a 1950 movie, Jernigan thought.
Big chested and big hipped, she walked like a windup version of Marilyn Monroe. Great if you liked the type.
He didn’t. She had done something with her hair to give it a metallic sheen and for a moment he wondered if red was the real color.
He smiled to himself. He really didn’t give a damn, which would probably upset her if she knew. “Good evening, Harry-” Her voice was husky and deliberately throaty, right out of the late-night movie. If the rolled-up copy of Variety that she invariably carried with her during the day was any indication, she wanted to be an actress. It was a little sad, he thought; for what she had to offer, she was ten years over the hill. Like his brother Melvin-in her own way, she was a born loser.
He turned the checkout book around for her to.sign.
“Big date tonight, Miss Elmon?”
“Big enough. Dinner at the Plaza and a movie. I’m not sure when I’ll be back, so be a sweetheart and take any messages for me, will you?”, She looked up at him and, for just a fleeting second he thought he saw the real Deirdre Elmon, the sixteen-year-old with too much of a desire to make it big to leave any room for serious thoughts on just how to go about it. She suddenly smiled.
“It’s too bad you’re married, Harry-or maybe I should say it’s too bad you’re married and loyal.” And then she was on stage again, the slight hint, of wistfulness buried beneath her make-up, making her grand exit framed in the open door of the elevator. “If you ever change your mind, handsome. .
“I won’t-but thanks for the compliment.”
“Enjoy it, honey, compliments don’t cost a thing.” And then the doors had closed.
She wasn’t even vaguely his cup of tea, Jernigan thought sadly.
And she wasn’t just a bad actress; she was pathetic. He stared after her for a long moment, wondering who was keeping her. She had no job that he knew of, but then again, he had never seen her bring anybody home.
And then he realized that it had to be somebody in the building with access to an executive suite so they could shack up there. She wasn’t going out to dinner, he thought. She wasn’t going to see a movie; she wasn’t even going to leave the building. She wasn’t dressed for the weather, but then she never was. ‘She probably never even bothered to look out the window to check what it was like. Whenever she returned from one of her big dates, whether it had been a steady downpour outside or a regular blizzard, her coat was always dry; her shoes had never been touched by water or slush, and her brittle hairdo had never been blown by the wind.
You couldn’t help but notice these things, Jernigan thought. Not if you had been a cop for ten years.
CHAPTER 5
Deirdre Elmon took the residential express down to the garage level, then quickly crossed over to an elevator servicing the commercial floors, her heel taps ringing against the tile. It would have been faster to have taken a
