Rome leaned back, his eyes half shut. “How many times have you tried to find something and found it in the last place you looked?”
“You mean Kimball? I doubt it.”
“Until we check every last one we can possibly check, Jerry, it isn’t over, it isn’t done.”
“But don’t expect her to have it.”
Rome stood up. “I’m going nuts sitting around. You stay here. I’ll go on out there. What’s the address?”
“Twelve ten.”
“I’ll call in after I draw a car. Communications will have the car number. Let me know if we get anything.”
After he was six blocks from headquarters, and had called in, Brian Rome looked at his wrist watch, holding it so a streetlight touched the dial. Ten after eleven. He found 1210 West Adams without difficulty. It was a small brick apartment house. He parked in front and went into the unlocked foyer and found that the mother and daughter lived in 1 F. He pressed the button for a long time. There was no answer. He tried 1 E and again there was no answer. When he pressed the button for 1 D, the inner door buzzed. He opened it and went down the narrow hallway past the single elevator. The door of 1 D opened and a heavy man in a T shirt stepped out into the hall.
“Something you want, friend?”
“Police. I’m trying to locate Mrs. Kimball or her daughter.”
A slight woman appeared beside the heavy man. “If they aren’t in, I don’t know where they are. But maybe you could try 3 A. She goes up there lots of evenings and plays Scrabble with Mrs. Fisher. Is something wrong?”
“Just routine. Thanks.”
He went up in the elevator and knocked at the door of 3 A. A gray-haired woman opened the door. Another woman of the same approximate age sat at a card table. A Scrabble game was in progress.
“I’m trying to locate Mrs. Kimball.”
“I’m Mrs. Kimball,” the other woman said. “What do you want me for?”
Rome stepped into the room. “I’m a police officer, Mrs. Kimball. My name is Rome. I’m trying to locate your daughter, Jane Ann.”
The woman jumped up, her hand to her throat, eyes wide. “What’s the matter? What do you want with my Jane Ann?”
“Nothing’s wrong. This is just a routine check. Did you hear about the bomb which was placed in some woman’s purse today?”
“Yes. It’s been on the radio all evening. But what’s that got to do with Jane Ann?”
“She was in the Shannon Building today and she left at five.”
“The Shannon Building! She works at Bloom... wait a minute. She went to see about a job today. She got off from the store. But do you really think it could...” The woman bit her lip and sat down again suddenly. “Oh my goodness!”
“I’m just checking. Mrs. Kimball. Where is your daughter?”
“Why, I don’t have any idea! She’s out on a date with Bob Larrimore. I don’t know where she is. But she ought to be home soon.”
“Can you give me a description, please?”
“Well, she’s tall and has light brown hair, and she’s slim and very pretty. She’s a model, you know. She’s a very talented artist, too...”
“How was she dressed?”
“Let me see now. She had on her new tan suit. And a white blouse. She took her portfolio with her. And she had her white shoulder bag.”
“What does Larrimore look like?”
“He’s big and very handsome and lively, with black hair and blue eyes.”
“Do they go out often?”
“Oh, quite often. They’ve been going around together for nearly a year. He takes Jane Ann to nice places.”
“Can you name some of them?”
“Well, there’s Angelo’s, and the Princess Hotel, and the Sutton Inn. and... well, just about every good place.”
“Had she planned this date in advance?”
“No, she called up and told me she didn’t get the job and she was meeting Bob.”
“Where does he work?”
“Their offices are in the Farmers Union Building. Maybe she’s home by now. Agnes, I don’t believe I can finish this game. I’m too upset.”
He went down with the two women on the elevator. He thanked Mrs. Kimball and asked her what kind of a car Larrimore drove.
“I really don’t know. They all look alike to me. It’s big and dark-colored.”
As soon as Rome got in his car he called in and ordered a cruiser sent to 1210 West Adams as quickly as possible. The cruiser arrived five minutes later. Rome told them to wait there in case the Kimball girl showed up. He told them to get the man and the girl out of the car and not to let her touch her purse. He made a U turn and went back toward town. As he drove he thought of the location of the Shannon Building and the Farmers Union Building in relation to places where the two could have met. He decided on Angelo’s.
“Yes, Lieutenant, we know Mr. Larrimore in here. Yes, he was in this evening. With a tall girl in a tan suit. They stayed a long time, but they didn’t eat here. They left after nine. I couldn’t say where they went. The waiter? Billy, go get Luigi out of the kitchen.”
Luigi was a small man with a wide nervous smile and expansive gestures. He did not know Larrimore by name. Larrimore had to be described to him, along with the girl. “Ah yes! They were here a long time.”
“Where did they go from here? Did you hear them talking?”
“Let me think a minute. I remember this. The lady, she wished to eat here. I think. He did not wish to. I think they quarreled over something. The man looked angry. Wait a minute.” He hit his forehead with his fist. He beamed at Rome. “The Sutton Inn. I heard him say that.”
It was quarter of midnight when Rome ran to the car again. He had four miles to go. The night streets were reasonably clear of traffic. It felt good to hurl the car down the long cavern of the boulevard, to achieve maximum speed, knowing that he could do no more than he was doing at this moment. He could see the line of traffic signals far ahead. A car cut across in front of him; he swerved dangerously, teetering on the naked edge of control. The siren sound faded to a lower key and then welled up again as he put the accelerator to the floor. He knew that he risked too much on too small a chance, but he felt such an unwarranted certainty that this was the right girl that he could not slow the headlong pace of the car.
When he saw the sign of the Sutton Inn ahead, he lifted his foot from the gas pedal and touched the brake lightly. He pumped the brake, losing momentum rapidly, the siren sound dying, then hit the brake hard and, after a screaming skid, turned in between the gray stone pillars and fought the swaying car to a stop under the porte-cochère.
The parking lot attendant gaped at him as he ran into the Sutton Inn, ran through the big foyer with its cloak room and crystal chandelier. A man reached for him as he hurried by the bar but Rome thrust the thick arm aside and ran into the dining room. There were only four or five tables occupied. He saw a girl in a tan suit sitting with a man who had black hair. They sat side by side on an upholstered bench that ran along one wall. The girl was lifting a coffee cup to her lips, looking at the man over the rim of it. The man was smiling as he talked.
Rome knew that someone was following him, hissing at him. He went directly to the table. A white shoulder bag was on the bench beside the girl.
“Miss Kimball!”
She stared at him. “Yes?” she said uncertainly. He knew that he must be a startling apparition to her, dark hair tousled, eyes wild.
“I must ask you to come outside immediately.” He put a hard edge of command in his voice. As the girl reached instinctively toward her purse he caught her wrist. “Don’t touch your purse.”
“What the hell is going on here?” Larrimore demanded.
The man who had followed Rome grabbed his arm. “Police,” Brian Rome said and yanked his arm free. “We have reason to believe the bomb intended for Wylie was put in this girl’s purse when she left the Shannon Building. If so, it’s due to go boom.” He turned to the wide-eyed manager. “I want this room cleared at once.”