She shrugged. “Not any more so than it is right now. I’ll mingle with the girls. They’re bound to know something about Doris Blair. I’ve never heard of any woman who could remain a complete and absolute mystery to a group of women she saw every day.”

Lowry nodded. “I thought of that slant. But of course there was no way I could get at them. They trust me about as much as they would the tax collector.”

“I’ll go to see Carrol tomorrow, then.”

“Good luck, Terry. I hope you make it. Let me know how it’s going.”

“I will.”

“Oh, and one thing you’d better remember. If I happen to walk into the place, you don’t know me from Adam, of course. Otherwise we’ll give the whole thing away and close up what may be our only remaining source of help.”

“I understand.”

Lowry stood up to go. As he walked to the door he stopped, turning around and smiling at the lovely girl. “It looks as if the crack I made in today’s column doesn’t go for you, Terry,” he said. “I’m glad to know there are at least a couple of unselfish people left in this rotten world of ours.”

In a quiet voice she said, “Your newspaper column applies to me as much as to anybody who ever knew Bob McKay. But they say that love is a selfish business. Otherwise I’d be stringing along with the others, I’ll bet.”

“I doubt it,” he said with a casual grin. “So long, Terry. And watch out for yourself. Be careful.”

14

14

Early the next evening, Terry put on a tight-fitting dress, very high-heeled shoes, and a heavy makeup which she felt gave her the requisite hard look. She folded a good evening gown into a tiny bag.

Boarding a downtown bus, she arrived at Carrol’s half an hour later, and strode into the bar affecting the brisk, challenging manner she associated with the part she meant to play.

Only a few early drinkers sat at the bar, hunched over their drinks. The bartender, a sullen, bag-eyed fellow, swabbed down the counter and looked at her with chilly disdain.

“What’s yours, Miss?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m not a customer. I’m—looking for Carrol.”

“He expecting you?”

“No. But I’d like very much to see him.”

The barkeep shrugged and nodded his head toward the back, without further explanation. Losing interest in her, he began polishing a chromium mixer with elaborate care.

Terry made her way toward the direction he had indicated. The place stank of stale beer. She went down a narrow corridor past the washrooms and came to a small room at the back with its door ajar.