"It's all over," I told her. "I knew you'd want to know. The jury was out nine hours, but they finally came through with it, first degree murder. As you know, he was tried for Rachel Abrams, not your brother, but that doesn't make any difference. Convicting him for one was convicting him for all four."
"Yes, of course. I'm glad it's over. Thank you for calling. You sound so close, as if you were right here."
"Yeah, so do you. What's it doing out there, raining?"
"Oh, no, bright sunshine, warm and bright. Why, is it raining in New York?"
"It sure is. I guess I bring it on. Do you remember how I looked that day through the peephole?"
"I certainly do! I'll never forget it!"
"Neither will I. Good-by, Peggy."
"Good-by, Archie."
I hung up and made another face. What the hell, I thought, in another twenty years Bubblehead may be dead, and age and contours won't matter much, and I'll grab her.