The D.A. Breaks an Egg

12

Rex Brandon called Selby on the phone and said, “Doug, I think we’ve finally got our corpse identified.”

“Who is she?”

“Her name is Rose Furman. She has an apartment in Los Angeles, in the Pocahontas Apartments.”

“How did you get the identification, Rex?”

“Through her shoes. She has a very narrow foot, and it’s difficult for her to get shoes. This shoe store has been selling her shoes on special order for four or five years. They know her because they’ve delivered shoes to her apartment, and she has a charge account. Aside from that, they don’t know much about her. Sometimes she’d come in and buy one or two pairs of shoes, sometimes three or four pairs. Then they wouldn’t see her again for months. I’m going into L.A. Want to come along?”

“Sure,” Selby said. “How about taking Sylvia along?”

“Sure thing.”

Selby said, “Well, we’d better tip her off, and let her follow in her own car. We’ve been in enough trouble for one day taking reporters along with us.”

“I’ll say we have.”

“I’ll get hold of her,” Selby said.

“How about it, Doug? If this looks like the girl, do we go in her apartment and look around?”

“We use our judgment. But before we make a move we’ll have a complete identification. You have her picture. We’ll get someone to identify the picture positively. Then, if we find out she’s missing from her apartment, and we have a positive identification, and the man in the shoe store identifies the photograph, I see no reason why we shouldn’t go in.”

“It’s okay by me,” Brandon said.

“I’m getting a line on a little stuff here and there,” Selby said, “but I...”

“Hey, wait a minute,” Brandon interrupted, “something’s happened. The Blade is out on the streets. It must be darned near forty minutes early. I can hear the newsboys screaming at the top of their lungs.”

“Well,” Selby said, “we’ll see if...”

“Just a minute, here’s one of the deputies. He’s got a paper... Oh, oh, Doug, this looks like something!”

“What is it?”

“That’s why they wanted to get out on the streets and grab the credit,” Brandon said. “Otto Larkin has grabbed the whole front page of the paper.”

“What’s he done?” Selby asked.

“According to the paper,” Brandon said, “he’s arrested the person who committed the murder, and... and damned if he hasn’t arrested Dorothy Clifton, Doug... and The Blade claims he’s found the murder weapon and bloodstained clothing in the suspect’s hotel room... and there’s merry hell to pay.”

Selby said, “Throw the paper in the car, Rex. We’ll read the lurid details on the way to Los Angeles.”