“Brian!”
He looked up at George Pell. George was looking at him curiously. “You all right?”
“I’m okay.”
“No luck yet?”
“Nothing. We’ve contacted the girl that was knocked down. She could remember six of the girls on the elevator. We got hold of them all. They gave us three more names. One of the three gave us one more name. And it ended right there. No descriptions of the ones they didn’t know. But that gave us one break. We know the elevator came right down from seventeen. We know it picked up passengers from twenty-two, twenty, nineteen, eighteen, and seventeen. Dumont has been able to quit on the lower floors. He’s concentrated the men on the top floor firms, and let some of them go. In another hour we ought to be fresh out of names.”
“How about people who visited the offices?”
“We’re doing what we can, George. We’ve got the appointment records, and we’re checking those, too. But in some cases there are no records.”
Pell had one of the bomb cases in his hand. He looked at it with distaste. “Now I want to give you some more happy news, Brian. That timing I told you about isn’t that accurate.”
“What do you mean?”
“It will only work that accurately if the bomb isn’t being moved around. Just as a guess I’d say that by about ten-thirty that wire will be weak enough so that any sharp blow might break it and detonate the bomb. And by eleven any quick movement might do it. And I’d guess that by eleven-thirty any movement at all will do the trick.”
“Fine!” Rome said hollowly. “Dandy!”
“Elser planned on its sitting still in a drawer. He didn’t figure on anybody carrying it around. If you’re going to find it and get it to a safe place, it had better happen before eleven.”
Brian Rome looked at his watch. It was sixteen minutes of ten.
They had stayed at Angelo’s too long. Jane Ann began to feel emotionally exhausted. Bob would be charming and amusing for a time and then quite subtly he would turn the conversation back toward marriage. Each time she forestalled the making of a decision it cost her a certain quota of emotional energy. She had threatened to go home several times, but Bob had apologized so gracefully that she had stayed. She sensed that he was quite aware of how heavy a toll this day had taken of her resources, and meant to take advantage of it. But even as she felt irritation toward him for this calculated bit of ruthlessness, it was an increasingly great temptation to give up, say “yes,” stop fighting. He would be a good husband, she thought. Protective and affectionate.
It was after nine when they left Angelo’s to drive over and have dinner at the Sutton Inn. The Sutton Inn was one of the best eating places in the city. She felt improperly dressed for the decor of the Inn, but Bob reassured her. Reassurance did not help very much when they walked in. She was certain that her suit was wrinkled in the back. Bob said he would wait at the bar while she went to the women’s room to freshen up.
Once she was in the women’s room, she sat down at one of the dressing tables. As she looked skeptically at her face in the mirror, she reached down into the shoulder bag and found her make-up equipment by sense of touch. There were bluish shadows under her eyes and she decided her color wasn’t good. Her hair looked dry and brittle.
Two women came in as she was fixing her hair, talking together. “... known Charles for years. He wouldn’t pull a cheap stunt like that, my dear. I’m positive the bomb exists. I don’t think it’s in somebody’s purse like they say. No woman could carry a thing like that around this long without finding it. Frankly, I’m getting quite sick of the whole thing.”
“It’s sort of exciting.”
“It’s dreadful! They’re getting so morbid about it. The next thing you know they’ll have people on the street grabbing purses and searching them.”
Jane Ann dropped her lipstick into her bag and left the room. The conversation had puzzled her. She was still wondering about it when Bob turned away from the bar and they were escorted back to their table.
“Some women in there were talking about a bomb.”
“I heard some men at the bar saying something about that. Somebody tried to plant a bomb in Wylie’s desk today.”
“They said it was in a purse, in some woman’s purse.”
“You’re confused, honey. Look. I’m sorry about the way I needled you back at Angelo’s. I’m turning over a new leaf.”
She smiled. “I’m glad to hear that.”
“You’re an adult. You can make up your own mind. You know where I stand, I guess.”
“I certainly do!”
“One more cocktail? It’ll cheer you up. There’s no hurry about ordering. They serve here until midnight.”
“All right,” she said, “one more.”
At twenty after ten Sergeant Dumont walked slowly into the office where Brian Rome sat at the desk. Rome looked up at him. Dumont shook his head.
“How do we look?”
“The cars have about four no-phones left to track down. Four girls left town after work, two on long weekends, and two starting early vacations. We’ve gotten to three of them. We’ll get to the fourth at the bus station in Buffalo in...” he looked at his watch “... another six minutes. That will wind up every female employee on the top six floors. I’ve got two men still working on visitors.”
“Good work. How are they doing?”
“There’s five that can’t be checked at all. No names. They were on seventeen in a research bureau office, waiting to be interviewed. The job was filled at about quarter of five and the girl told them and they took off. They weren’t asked for their names. The girl is sure it was quarter of five. So maybe they got down and out of the way in time. And we’ve got three names we’re still trying to check. Two of them are from a law office on twenty-two and one is from an advertising agency on eighteen.” He looked at his sheet of paper. “A Mrs. Brown, a Miss Davids, and a Miss Kimball.”
One of the telephone men came in. “You can check off Brown. No answer on that phone for Kimball. Here’s the number. Joey thinks he’s got a line on the Davids girl.”
Dumont took the slip with the phone number on it. “I guess you can knock off now.” The man yawned and said “goodnight” and trudged out.
Just as he got beyond the door. Brian Rome called him back. “What’s the story on Kimball?”
“She was on the appointment book at an advertising agency on the eighteenth floor. Miller, Hogan, and Brie. She had a quarter-of-four appointment to see a man named... wait a minute... Shambrun. I got hold of Shambrun. He said she was after a job. He didn’t hire her. He didn’t know her first name. He said a woman named Gilbraith sent her around. He had Gilbraith’s number handy so he gave it to me. I phoned Gilbraith. Gilbraith told me the name was Jane Ann Kimball and she lived with her mother somewhere on West Adams. Kimball is a clerk and a dress model at Bloomington’s. I found a phone for Mrs. James Kimball on West Adams. There’s nobody home.”
“What time did she leave Shambrun?”
“He thinks it was five o’clock.”
The man left. Dumont went out to check on the remaining names. Brian Rome lit another cigarette. He thought about the Kimball girl. She would have to be attractive to be a model. He wondered what sort of job she was trying to get with an advertising firm.
Dumont came back in and reported that the girl had been contacted at the bus station in Buffalo and she could be crossed off. Three of the no-phones had been cleared. Miss Davids had been found at a roller rink.
“Now what?” Dumont demanded.