“Why so?”
“Well, you know how girls that age tend to dramatize things. Boys too, of course. He was apparently trying to make a date with her, but she kept on making one excuse after another for not seeing him. She was very feline, very waspish, but in no hurry to hang up. It was amusing, in a way, though I felt a little sorry for poor Les, and when she finally did hang up I guess I must have been grinning. Anyhow she apologized for holding up the phone so long. I asked her if she’d ever heard the saying about the way women ran away from men — that they ran away from them in circles — but she didn’t think that was very funny. And that’s what I meant when I said kids always dramatize things. She’d been so haughty and disdainful when she talked to him on the phone, and then she turned right around and told me he was so jealous of her that she was afraid for her fife. I could hardly keep a straight face. She made poor Les out to be a real terror.”
“Have you ever met this boy?”
He shook his head. “I’d like to, though. I’d give him some good advice. This puppy-love business is a lot more painful than most grownups remember. And with Doris so pretty, and dressing so provocatively and all, I imagine Les is in a terrible sweat about things.”
“You said she got the phone call right after you got home this afternoon. What time was it exactly, do you know?”
“It was about a quarter to eight, I think. I remember she said something to him at the very beginning of the conversation about having to be at the Boardmans by eight-thirty. I gathered he wanted to see her after she got off here, and she was insisting there wouldn’t be time.”
“Did she say where this boy was calling from?”
“Yes. She said he was calling from the place where he works. It seems he had to work late tonight, but his boss had said he could take a couple of hours off, and Less wanted to use them to see Doris.”
I got up and moved to the phone on the table at one end of the sofa. “Do you mind if I use this, Mr. Steward?”
“Not at all.”
I glanced through the directory, found the number for Marland’s Floral Shop, and dialed the number. I had little hope that it would be open at this hour — though several florists in New York do stay open most of the night — but the phone might have been switched over to an answering service, and in that case I would have no trouble locating the proprietor. After the phone had rung long enough to tell me my guess about an answering service had been a wrong one, I hung up and looked through the directory again. There were only four private phones listed under Marland, and I started calling them in order.
I reached the proprietor on the third try. He told me Les Ogden’s first name was Leslie and that he lived in a rooming house on West Fifty-first. I warned him against trying to contact Les, and then called the Boardmans’ number to tell Walt Logan our case had suddenly turned very hot and that I was on my way to pick up Ogden for questioning. One of the techs told me Walt had not returned. I decided against trying to reach him at the party where I had sent him to check on the Boardmans.
I hung up and walked back to Mr. Steward. “Thanks for your help,” I said. “I’ll be leaving now.”
He’d been listening to every word, of course, and now he searched my face intently, as if he could read some answers there. “This trouble Doris is in — it’s pretty serious, isn’t it?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Steward,” I said. “I can’t discuss it with you.”
He nodded slowly, still studying my face, then got up and crossed to the door and opened it for me. “Well, as I said, if there’s anything my wife and I can do to help her...”
“We’ll let you know, Mr. Steward,” I said. “And thanks again.”
Leslie Ogden lived in a hall bedroom on the third floor of a rundown brownstone just off Tenth Avenue. He was a well-built young man, about nineteen, with crew-cut blond hair and features that were small without being effeminate. He had opened his door almost the instant I knocked on it, and now he stared at me with the kind of anxious wariness that comes when you expect trouble and realize there’s nothing you can do about it.
I showed him my badge, closed the door behind me, and leaned back against it. The room was small and hot and held the dank, aged smell that long-time rooming houses all seem to have. There was a narrow bed with an Indian blanket thrown across it in lieu of a spread, an ancient dresser, a straight chair with a stack of paperback novels on it, a few pin-ups stuck to the walls with Scotch tape, and that was all.
Ogden reached for the pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket, then changed his mind and sank down slowly on the bed, all without saying a word or taking his eyes from my face.
“Most people are a little surprised when a cop comes around to see them at this hour, Ogden,” I said. “But you’re not. Why is that?”
“Never mind the cat-and-mouse routine,” he said tightly. “I haven’t done a goddamn thing, and you know it.”
“That so? Well, let’s talk a little, anyhow.”
“Talk all you want. See what it gets you.”
“When’s the last time you saw Doris Linder?”
Ogden’s eyes widened with what seemed to be genuine surprise. “Doris?”
“Yes, Doris. When’s the last time you saw her?”
“Jesus,” he said softly. “So she’s the one.”
“Answer the question, Ogden.”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and stared hard at the floor. “I saw her a couple of days ago,” he said finally.
“You didn’t see her tonight?”
“No.” He spoke absently, his thoughts apparently far away.
“Talk to her by phone today?”
“No.”
“You didn’t call her at Charles Steward’s house and have a fight with her?”
“I don’t even know any Charles Steward, for God’s sake.”
“What kind of work do you do at that florist’s shop?”
He shrugged. “All right. So you’ve got a big gold badge and that means I have to go along with the gag. I help out around the place, that’s all. I wait on customers and make up floral pieces and work on the books some, and anything else the boss wants me to do. Next question.”
“How many phone calls did you make today?”
“I didn’t make any. The boss doesn’t like it.”
“I understand you’re Doris Linder’s steady boy friend.”
He laughed shortly and bitterly. “Man, you’ve got one hell of a sense of humor. You fracture me, you really do.”
“What’s your relationship with her?”
“I’ve had a few dates with her, that’s all.”
“You worked late tonight, did you?”
“That’s right. Keep the gag going. Sure I worked late tonight. This is our big day. I went in at noon and didn’t get off till midnight.”
“How many times did you leave the shop during that time?”
“Well! So you’re finally going to get around to it. I didn’t leave at all, except that once.”
“When was this?”
“Boy, you like to stretch things out, don’t you? You know when I left. It was right after I got that phone call.”
“When, Ogden?”
“It was about nine-thirty when I got the call, and I started up there right away.”
I studied him for a moment. “To Mr. Steward’s house, you mean?”
“I told you I don’t know any Mr. Steward. What’re you trying to build, anyhow? What’s all this production for?”
“Listen, Ogden...”
He got to his feet suddenly and took two short steps toward me. “No. You listen to me, copper. I’ve had just about all of this I mean to take. You hear? You think you’re going to shake me down, you’re wrong as hell. This is one slimy deal you and your buddy aren’t going to get away with.”