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license is just a memory. Dig?”
    ”Yes, sir. Thanks for letting me ride along.”
    ”Be seeing you,” said Murphy as I closed his door. My primary goal had been to confirm for myself that Al’s death was not what it seemed. The pinkie and the carefully tossed room did that. My secondary goal had been to give Murphy enough doubts to make him accept my eventual explanation. It was important for him to have only a little doubt now because I didn’t want him investigating too deeply. Somehow I didn’t think Murphy’s and my view of squaring things would be equally extreme.
    As I watched him pull away, however, I wondered if he wasn’t a step ahead of me in the doubt department.
     

Five
     
     
     
    T HE TELEPHONE RANG AT THE OTHER END OF THE L INE. Iglanced down at my watch. 4:35 p.m. A time of traffic tie-ups, Sesame Street, and kids’ afternoon snacks. A mundane time of day to tell someone she’s a widow.
    The fourth ring was interrupted by an adult female voice. ”Hello?”
    ”Hello, Martha?”
    ”Yes, who is this?”
    There was a faint scratchiness on the line. ”Martha, it’s John Cuddy, Al’s friend from the army. From Boston.”
    ”Oh, yes, John, so good to finally talk with you. Al said he was going to be seeing you. Is he with you now?”
    ”No, he’s not.” I took a chance. ”Al told me you had a very close friend in your neighborhood,” I lied, ”but I forget her name.”
    ”Oh, you mean Carol. Carol Emmer. I mean, Krause. Emmer was her married name.” I could sense her thinking. She gave a little laugh. ”John, are we setting up some sort of long-distance blind date?”
    I clamped down hard on my jaw to retard the gagging reflex. ”I’m afraid not. Are you alone right now?”
    Her pause on the other end told me she thought it was an odd question. ”Yes, except for Al Junior, of course. He’s napping. I was afraid the phone might have woken him up, but I don’t hear him.” A darkening. ”John, what’s the matter?”
    ”Martha, when I’m finished talking with you, I want you to call Carol right away, and ask her to come stay with you...
    ”Why?”
    ”Martha, Al is dead. Somebody killed him, here in Boston. I was with the police....” But I was talking into a dead line. I hung up and dialed again. Busy. Twice. I called long-distance information.
    Pittsburgh directory assistance had eight ”C. Krauses” and three ”C. Emmers.” I explained the situation to the directory assistance operator, who said she could not help, but would switch me to a supervisor. As I waited for the connection, I cursed myself for not pursuing the blind date opening and getting Carol’s number from Martha.
    ”Hello, Supervisor Seven speaking, may I help you?”
    I re-explained the situation to Supervisor Seven. ”I’m sorry,” she replied, ”but I cannot provide any information beyond that listed in the directory.”
    When you face that kind of answer, your options are several but limited. You can blow up and slam down the receiver. You can ask to go above that person’s head, with the person usually poisoning his or her superior against you before you get to speak to the superior. Or you can try a different tack.
    I decided to tack. ”Look,” I said, ”my best friend from the service was killed here. I’m really concerned for his wife, widow, but I’m not about to send a police car to her home. Can you do this? Can you crosscheck the addresses of the ”C. Krauses” and ”C. Emmers” against the address of ”A. Sachs” and tell me which Krause or Emmer lives closest?”
    I heard the supervisor speak to someone off the phone. The supervisor came back on. ”If this is a test by Internal Operations, I will personally rip your dialing finger off.”
    I gave a little laugh. I had discovered a human being. ”It isn’t, and I really appreciate your help.” Twenty seconds or so passed before the supervisor came back on. ”We show a C. Krause on the same street as A. Sachs, probably just