“So that’s why that business with the disguises that Bessie told me about,” Liz said thoughtfully. “The wig and the hair dye. The women thought they’d be safe with Miss Hamer, but something must’ve happened to make them afraid. Maybe they were somehow tipped off that this man—this Frankie Diamond—might show up here in Darling, looking for them.”

“They might even have looked out the window and seen him walking past,” Verna said. “My house isn’t that far from Miss Hamer’s.”

“Or maybe he even knocked at Miss Hamer’s door, and DessaRae sent him away.” Liz rolled her eyes. “And to think that I wanted to write a charming story about Miss Jamison—a hometown girl who made good in the big city. Some story! It belongs in a true-crime magazine, not in a family newspaper.”

“I’m afraid you’re right.” Verna sighed. “I’m also afraid I’ve outfoxed myself, Liz. And I’m not happy about it.” She told Liz about the telegram she had faked, with its instruction to call “Mr. C” at noon from the phone booth.

“I was thinking of it as a kind of test,” she added. “I thought if that fellow made the call, it would prove definitively that he was connected to the Capone gang. But Mrs. O’Malley has already given us all the evidence we need. And now Diamond is going to call that number and find out that it wasn’t his pals up there in Cicero who sent him that telegram. He’ll know that somebody here in Darling has figured out who he is. I wish I hadn’t done it.”

“Well, for pity’s sake, Verna,” Liz said, with a wave of her hand. “That’s an easy problem to solve. Just don’t connect him.”

Verna frowned. “Excuse me?”

“Think about it, Verna,” Liz replied patiently. “You’re the telephone operator. You can pretend to be putting him through all the long-distance offices, but you really won’t. You can make him wait for fifteen or twenty minutes and then tell him that all the circuits are busy and he needs to try again later.” She grinned crookedly. “Happens to me about half the time when I want to make a long-distance call. Doesn’t it happen to you?”

Verna rolled her eyes, wondering why she hadn’t thought of this splendid subterfuge. “Oh, you bet. What a grand idea, Liz. That’s exactly what I’ll do.”

“Swell,” Liz said. She hesitated, frowning. “You know, Verna, if this guy really is dangerous, somebody ought to keep an eye on him.”

“Shadow him, you mean?” Verna suggested helpfully. “Maybe that’s something you could do, Liz. If you don’t have to get back to the office right away.” Liz was right that somebody ought to watch the fellow.