Mrs. Parker and then went to the station and purchased a ticket for the first available train.â
I pushed aside the thought that Mr. Slocum had been too busy to purchase a ticket for the first available train, and I swallowed some more roast beef.
âMeanwhile,â said Mrs. Parker, inhaling her cigarette, then exhaling smoke with her words, âback at the ranch, I was going through my list of ambulance chasers. Clarence Darrow was busy, so I called Lipkind here.â Lightly, with her left hand, she stroked the dog, which was now lying across her thighs.
âDarrowâs a piker,â said Mr. Lipkind, and he stroked his luxuriant mustache.
I took a sip of Coca-Cola. It was warm but absolutely delicious.
âMr. Lipkind, Mrs. Parker, and I,â continued Miss Lizzie, âmet at the Plaza Hotel for . . . well, I suppose you could call it a council of war. Mr. Lipkind has friends in the police departmentââ
â Friends is putting it kind of strong,â said Mr. Lipkind.
âLawyers donât have friends,â Mrs. Parker explained to me, stubbing out her cigarette. âThey have torts.â She turned to Mr. Lipkind. âOr is that tarts?â
Miss Lizzie smiled brightly at them both. âMay I finish, please?â
I had once seen her lose her temper, and she had been terrifying. Even now, with only that bright, controlled smile, she was formidable.
âSorry about that,â said Mrs. Parker. âSometimes I get carried away.â She smiled wryly. âSometimes I think I should be.â
Miss Lizzie looked at Mr. Lipkind.
âAbsolutely,â he said. âYou got it.â
She turned back to me. âMr. Lipkindâs acquaintances ,â she said, âwere able to determine where you were being held. Mr. Lipkind knew of a judge who was able to provide the papers necessary to secure your release. Once he had them, Mr. Lipkind proceeded to police headquarters. He has done, I think, an excellent job.â She turned to him. âFor which I sincerely thank him.â
âHey,â said Mr. Lipkind. âItâs what I do.â
I swallowed the last bite of sandwich and asked Miss Lizzie, âWhy didnât you come down there yourself?â
âMrs. Parker suggested that, all things considered, it might be best for me to remain in the background. I believe she was right.â
I looked at Mrs. Parker, who was bending forward, whispering to the dog. She looked up at me and again she smiled that dazzling smile.
Miss Lizzie said to me, âKnowing something of how the police operate, I imagine that youâve explained several thousand times what happened today. But perhaps, if youâre able, you could explain it one more time, for us.â
âOkay.â I dabbed at my mouth with a paper napkin, took another sip of the Coca-Cola.
Slowly, I explained it one more time.
Now and then Mr. Lipkind asked questions.
âDaphne Dale?â he said. âThe writer?â
Mrs. Parkerâs dog was following all this closely, his small, square head turning from one speaker to the next.
âThatâs what John told me,â I said. âHe said she put him in her book.â
âReally?â said Mrs. Parker. â The Flesh Seekers ? He was Jerry Brandon? Well, of course he was. John Burton, Jerry Brandon.â She turned to Miss Lizzie. âShe calls herself Sophie Hill in the book. Daphne doesnât go very far for her names.â She smiled. âJust over the hill and down the dale.â
âI wouldnât know,â I said. âI havenât read the book.â
âConsider yourself lucky,â she said. âBut if you want a copy, I can lend you mine. Itâs propping up a bookcase in my apartment.â
âOkay,â said Mr. Lipkind. âWhat next?â
I continued on to El Fay.
âLarry Fay,â said Mr. Lipkind. âAnd your uncle went off with
C. J. Cherryh
Learning to Kill: Stories
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Brenda Sinclair
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