Burtonâs, what Amandaâs testimony might be. He couldnât have known that sheâd mention Mr. Madden and Mr. Fay.â
âMaybe Madden or Fay heard that Burton got nailed, and they decided to be included out. All it would take is a call to Becker.â
âWhy should they care?â
âDunno. Something weâve got to find out, I guess.â
She turned to me. âAll right, Amanda. Mr. Becker brought you down to police headquarters. What then?â
I told them about Vandervalk and Becker.
Once again Miss Lizzie turned to Mr. Lipkind. âThey canât really believe that Amandaâs uncle tried to . . . harm her?â
âNah. Like I told the kidââ
âAmanda,â corrected Miss Lizzie.
âRight. Like I told her, theyâre up against it. They got no one else. Sheâs handy, right? An out-of-towner. No family, no friends, no connections. They tie the can to her; they can close out the case.â
âThatâs despicable.â
âYeah. Cossacks. They had her in a little holding cell they got downstairs. Wanted to spook her. Even brought in some bullââ Lightly, he covered his mouth with his fist and cleared his throat. âThey even brought in some hard-nosed babe from the streets, stuck her in there with her.â
He grinned. âTurns out the babe got decked.â He turned to me. âWhatâd you hit her with? The sink?â
âThe wall,â I said. âSort of.â I turned to Miss Lizzie. âShe was going toââ
âIâm sure you did exactly what needed to be done,â she said.
I looked over at the lawyer. âMr. Lipkind?â
âYeah?â
âThe room I was in, with Becker and Vandervalk. There was a big drain in the floor. What was that for?â
âFor when they rinse the room down. Afterward.â He turned to Miss Lizzie. âSometimes, the cops, they get a little carried away when they ask people questions.â
âCharming,â she said. âAll right. Where, exactly, do we go from here?â
Before he could answer, someone knocked at the door to the suite.
Miss Lizzie said, âWho on Earth . . .â
Mrs. Parker set the dog on the carpet and stood. The dog looked up at her, expectant. âLetâs find out,â said Mrs. Parker.
His tail twitching, the dog followed her to the door.
Chapter Nine
It was Mr. Lipkindâs chauffeur, Robert. He strode into the room, holding his cap in his left hand and carrying a suitcase in his right. I recognized the suitcase as my own.
Panting, the Boston terrier danced around him.
Mr. Lipkind rose from his chair. âOkay, Robert, thanks. You can just set that down.â
Robert lowered the suitcase, placed it against the wall, and stood straight up, waiting. Taller than he had seemed in the car, he was broad-shouldered and narrow-waisted. And still very handsome in his well-cut gray uniform.
Mr. Lipkind turned to Miss Lizzie. âThis is my right-hand guy, Robert Jenkins. Robert, this is Miss Borden.â
Miss Lizzie smiled. âHow do you do?â
âMaâam,â said Robert in his smooth, rolling baritone, and he nodded politely.
âAnd this is Mrs. Parker,â said Mr. Lipkind.
âDorothy,â said Mrs. Parker.
âMaâam,â said Robert.
âDorothy,â said Mrs. Parker and smiled.
âGrab a seat, Robert,â said Mr. Lipkind. He looked to Miss Lizzie. âThat okay?â
âOf course,â she said.
Only one more seat was available, a small upholstered chair pushed up against the wall. With a dancerâs grace, Robert lifted it, swung it out into the room, set it back on the floor, and sat down in it. He held himself upright, holding his cap in his lap with both hands, the terrier sniffing and snuffling at his shiny black brogues. Robert leaned forward and used his right hand to scratch the dog behind the ear. The terrier
C. J. Cherryh
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