break her ribs.?
?Very strong,? I mused. ?I?m not a weak sister myself and I know what it?s like to come up against one of those strong bastards.? I sat there and watched him.
A look of incredulity came over his face. ?Now wait a minute. We?re on two different subjects, feller. Don?t try to tell me that he was the same . . .?
?Know who she was, Pat??
?I told you she was unidentified at present. She had no handbag but we?ll trace her from her clothes.?
?That takes time.?
?Know a better way??
?Yeah,? I said. ?As a matter of fact I do.? I reached behind the seat and dragged out an envelope. It was crammed with pictures and I dumped them into my lap. Pat reached up and turned on the overhead light. I shuffled through them and brought out the one I was looking for.
Pat looked a little sick. He glanced at me then back to the picture. ?Her name is Jean Trotter, Pat. She?s a model at Anton Lipsek?s agency. Several days ago she eloped.?
I thought he?d never stop swearing. He fanned out the pictures in his hand and squinted at them with eyes that blazed hot as the fires of hell. ?Pictures. Pictures. Goddamn it, Mike, what are we up against? Do you know what that burned stuff was that you found in Emil Perry?s house??
I shook my head.
?Pictures!? he exploded. ?A whole mess of burned photographs that didn?t show a thing!?
The steering wheel started to bend under my fingers. I jammed my foot on the starter and roared away from the curb. Pat looked at the picture again in the light of the dash. His breath was coming fast. ?We can make it official now. I?ll get the whole department on it if I have to. Give me a week and we?ll have that guy ready to face a murder trial.?
I glowered back at him. ?Week hell, all we have is a couple of hours. Did you trace that piece of fabric I gave you??
?Sure, we traced it all right. We found the store it came from . . . over a year ago. It was from a damn good suit the owner remembered selling, but the guy had no recollection for faces. It was a cash transaction and he didn?t have a record of the size or any names or addresses. Our killer is one smart Joe.?
?He?ll trip up. They all do.?
I cut in and out of traffic, my foot heavy on the accelerator. On the main drag I was lucky enough to make the lights and didn?t have to stop until I was in front of the Municipal Building. I said, ?Pat, use your badge and check the marriage bureau for Jean Trotter?s certificate. Find out who she eloped with and where she was married. Since I can?t show my nose you?ll have to do this on your own.?
?Where?ll you be??
I looked at my watch. ?First I?m going to see what I can get on the girl myself. Then I?m going to stop a seduction scene before it starts.?
Pat was still trying to figure that one out when I drove off. I looked in the rear-vision mirror and saw him pocket the photograph and walk away up the street.
I stopped at the first drugstore I came to and had a quarter changed into nickels then pushed a guy out of the way who was getting into the booth. He was going to argue about it until he saw my face then he changed his mind and went looking for another phone. I dropped the coin in and dialed Juno?s number. I was overanxious and got the wrong number. The second time I hit it right, but I didn?t get to speak to Juno. Her phone was connected to one of those service outfits that take messages and a girl told me that Miss Reeves was out, but expected home shortly. I said no, I didn?t want to leave a message and hung up.
I threw in another nickel and spun the dial. Connie was home. She would be glad to see me no matter what the hour was. My voice had a rasp to it and she said, ?Anything wrong, Mike??
?Plenty. I?ll tell you about it when I get there.?
I set some sort of a record getting to her place, leaving behind me a stream of swearing-mad cab drivers who had tried to hog the road and got bumped over to the side for their pains.
A guy had his key in the downstairs door so I didn?t have to ring the bell to get in. I didn?t have to ring the upstairs bell either, because the door was open and when Connie heard me in the hall she shouted for me to come right in.
I threw my hat on the chair, standing in the dull light of the hall a moment to see where I was. Only a little night light was on, but a long finger of bright light streamed from the bedroom door out across the living room. I picked my way round the furniture and called, ?Connie??
?In here, Mike.?
She was in bed with a couple of pillows behind her back reading a book. ?Kind of early for this sort of thing, isn?t it??
?Maybe, but I?m
I sat down and she put her fingers under mine. I didn?t have to tell her something bad had happened. She could read it in my eyes. Her smile disappeared into a frown. ?What is it, Mike??
?Jean Trotter . . . she was murdered tonight. She was killed and thrown off the bridge. It was supposed to look like suicide, but it was seen.?
?No!?
?Yes.?
?God, when is it going to stop, Mike? Poor Jean . . ?
?It?ll stop when we have the killer and not before. What do you know about her, Connie? What was she like . . . who was this guy she married??
Connie shook her head, her hair falling loosely around her shoulders. ?Jean . . . she was a sweet kid when I first met her. I-I don?t know too much about her, really. She was older than the teen-age group of course, but she modeled clothes for them. We . . . never did the same type work, so I don?t know about that.?
?Men . . . what men did she go with? Ever see them??
?No, I didn?t. When she first came to work I heard that she was engaged to a West Point cadet, then something happened. She was pretty broken up for a while. Juno made her take a vacation and when she came back she seemed to be all right, though she didn?t take much interest in men. One time at an office party she and I were talking about what wolves some men are and she was all for hanging every man by their thumbs and making it a woman?s world.?
?Nice attitude. What changed her??
?Now you?ve got me. We sort of lived in different parts of the world and I never saw too much of her. I know she had a good sum of money tied up in expensive jewelry she used to wear and there was talk about a wealthy student in an upstate college taking her out, but I never inquired about it. As a matter of fact, I was very surprised when she eloped like that. True love is funny, isn?t it, Mike??
?Not so funny.?
?No, I guess not.?
I put my face in my hand, rubbing my head to make things come out right. ?Is that all . . . everything you know about her? Do you know where she was from or anything about her background??
Connie squinted at the light and raised her forefinger thoughtfully. ?Oh . . . think . . .?
?Come on, come on . . . what??
?I just happened to think. Jean Trotter wasn?t her right name. She had a long Polish name and changed it when she became a model. She even made it legal and I cut the piece out of the paper that carried a notation about it. Mike . . . over there in the dresser is a small leather folder. Go get it for me.?
I slid off the bed and started through the top drawer until Connie said, ?No . . . the other one, Mike.?
I tried that one too but couldn?t find it. ?Damn it, Connie, come over here and get it, will you!?
?I can?t.? She laughed nervously.
So I started tossing all her junk to the floor until she yipped and threw back the covers to run over and make me stop. Now I knew why she didn?t want to get out of bed. She was as naked as a jaybird.
She found the folder in the back of a drawer and handed it to me with a scowl. ?You ought to have the decency to close your eyes, at least.?
