“Dark brown. It was long and he had sideburns, like an actor. The time I saw him I was coming down the stairs and he was going into their apartment with the mail. He was wearing a T-shirt. The other time I rang their bell and Teddy answered and I heard this fellow and when I apologized for interrupting, Teddy said no, it was just his roommate. I didn’t ask.”

“When was the last time you went out with Leikman?”

“Before Christmas. That was the time I rang his bell to find out what time he was going to pick me up. It was an office party, December twenty-third.”

“You’re not very upset by Leikman’s death, Miss Linjak.”

She looked at him coldly. “I’m not going to show you whether I am or not. That’s clear, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely,” he said. “You’ve been a very big help. I must ask you not to discuss any of this with anybody, especially the newspapers. Don’t speak to them at all.”

“I’ll be hearing from you?”

“That’s right. Good night.”

Curran moved to escort her back to her room, and she said to him, “I know where I live, thank you.” Leland gave him a sign to let her go.

“Cop-hater,” Curran said when she was gone.

Leland shook his head. “She was right. She didn’t have to show us anything.”

“She got us off the hook with that description,” Curran said.

“Maybe that’s our little bit of luck—a rattleproof, trustworthy woman. Was there anyone else?”

“No. I wish I knew how you figure trustworthy.”

“Leikman trusted her. By her account, she didn’t let him down. As a matter of fact, I kind of like her myself. Let’s see what’s cooking upstairs.”

“I’m getting an education,” Schoenstein said before they went into the Leikman apartment. “I feel like the dumbest cop alive.”

“Don’t let it throw you, boy,” Curran said. “We’re all doing only what our daddies taught us.”

“I think I’ll put you on report,” Leland said.

“I meant in the general sense,” Curran said, flustered. “That we were playing it by ear.” He had forgotten about Leland’s father.

“Relax,” Leland said. “I’m needling you.”