Cinderella by Ed McBain Page B

inside the door, as though paralyzed. He thought for a moment she would turn and run right out again.
        "Won't you sit down?" he said, as gently as he could, and motioned to the chairs in front of his desk.
        The girl looked terrified.
        "Miss?" he said.
        The girl nodded.
        "Please sit down, won't you?"
        She moved crablike toward one of the chairs, sat in it, and then immediately and defensively folded her arms across her chest.
        "I'm sorry," Matthew said, "I didn't get your name."
        "Kelly," the girl squeaked, and cleared her throat. "Kelly O'Rourke."
        "How can I help you, Miss O'Rourke?" Matthew asked. She stared at him, her eyes wide. He wondered if he had grown horns.
        "Miss?"
        "Yes, sir."
        "Please relax."
        "I'm relaxed," she said.
        "I understand you want to talk to me about Otto Samalson."
        "Yes, sir."
        "What about him?"
        "I read in the paper that he worked for you."
        "Well, he was doing some work for us, yes."
        "The paper said investigator with the firm of Summerville and Hope."
        "Yes, well, that wasn't quite accurate," Matthew said.
        "That's why I came here," Kelly said, sounding disappointed, like a child who'd been promised the circus only to have it rain. "'Cause the paper said he worked for you."
        "Well, maybe I can help you, anyway," Matthew said. "What was it you wanted to tell me?"
        She hesitated.
        Then she said, "I saw him."
        "When?" Matthew asked at once.
        "Sunday night."
        "Where?"
        "At the Seven-Eleven where I work. He came in and asked for a pack of cigarettes."
        "Where's that?"
        "On Forty-one. Just over the Whisper Key bridge."
        "Which bridge? North or south?"
        "North."
        "What time was this?"
        "About a quarter to eleven."
        "Are you sure it was him?"
        "Yes, I recognized his picture in the paper. He seemed like a nice man."
        "He was," Matthew said. "Did he say anything else?"
        "Just that he didn't need matches. When I handed him the cigarettes. Said he had a lighter, thanks."
        "Was he alone?"
        "Yes."
        "Came in alone?"
        "Yes."
        "Went out alone?"
        "Yes. But…"
        Matthew was writing. He looked up sharply.
        "Yes?"
        "I watched through the front window, you know? The big window? Because he was such a cute little man. And there was nothing to do, the place was empty."
        "And?"
        "He got in his car, and started it, and backed out."
        "Yes, go ahead, Kelly."
        "This other car backed out right after him. Like it was waiting for him to pull out, you know? Backed out and followed him."
        "You're sure it followed him?"
        "Made the turn at the light, same as he did."
        "Heading in which direction?"
        "South on Forty-one."
        "What kind of car was it, Kelly?"
        "A black Toronado," she said, "with red racing stripes and tinted windows."
        "Did you happen to notice the license plate?"
        "No, I'm sorry. I would've looked if I'd known he was gonna get killed. But I didn't know that."
        "Did you notice who was in the car?"
        "No. I told you, the windows were tinted."
        "You couldn't tell if it was one person… or two?"
        "I couldn't see in."
        "Anything else you can remember? Anything Mr. Samalson said or did?"
        "Yes, sir," Kelly said, and suddenly smiled. "He made a joke about my hair. He said it looked like my head was on fire."
        
***
        
        The moment she was gone, Matthew called Cooper Rawles at the Calusa P.D. He had first met Rawles when he was working on what the police files had labeled the Jack and the Beanstalk case but what Matthew would always remember as the Bullet in the Shoulder case. Unfortunately, the