Free The Blonde Died Dancing by Kelley Roos

business about Anita, my school involved… and you and I running off to be married in the middle of it all. It would seem so very callous.”
    “Yes, of course, you’re right, Oliver. As usual. But can’t you come home with me? Now, I mean. My lovely apartment’s there, waiting for us…”
    “Please,” Bell pleaded, “please, Leone. We mustn’t risk any gossip.” His voice turned playfully, coyly severe. “And I must say, your behavior just now during business hours… really, Miss Webb!”
    “So sorry, Mr. Bell.” Leone was mocking her own efficiency. “We won’t let it happen again, will we? Well, just once more. Now, for instance.”
    “Darling…”
    After a long moment and some small murmurings, I heard a click and then the sound of a door opening and closing. I opened my door and shot through the darkened conference room. I got my gloves, hat, coat and purse out of my locker. I had a few things, which might or might not mean anything, to report to Steve.

9
    The elevator was so crowded that when its operator implored his passengers to face the front it was all I could do to obey. Theft I wished I hadn’t. My nose was practically flattened against the back of a young man’s neck. As I pulled back my head and my eyes focused, that neck, the ears above it, the set of the shoulders beneath it seemed familiar. I tried to place them. I was trapped too tightly in the now descending car to edge around for a look at the face, so I had to be content to work with what I could see.
    Immediately, I eliminated Mr. Bell. Ear-wise, this couldn’t be he. Besides, Bell was taller, older. Then I eliminated Bob Spencer. Neck-wise, Bob was frailer, shoulder-wise, too. This young man had an athletic cast to him… and then I had it.
    This was the young man whose voice I had first heard in Studio J, next heard making a phony excuse to a policeman for his presence at 11 Rhinebeck Place. This was a young man I wanted to know more about.
    It soon developed that this was a young man in a hurry. Almost before I knew it I was chasing after him through the chill December night… up Madison Avenue, down into an Independent Subway Station, onto an E train bound for Long Island. My maneuvering to keep out of his sight proved unnecessary. He was slouched down in his seat. His hat was pushed so far back off his juvenile, clean-cut face that his crew cut was showing. He was scowling at the floor as though he disapproved of it. He was so engrossed in his own troubles that I could have sat on his lap without his noticing it.
    We had a nice, long subway ride together.
    He almost missed his stop; he came to just in time. I was lucky to get out between the closing doors. We were in Kew Gardens. I wondered, nervously, what in the world we were doing in Kew Gardens.
    He walked rapidly through a business district. I stayed across the street from him. In the middle of the last block of stores, before the terrain went purely residential, was a still lighted stationery-tobacco type shop. He disappeared into it, leaving me with my mouth open, gasping for air. I leaned gratefully against a hobby shop window and waited.
    Five minutes later he was still in there. The store had no side exits that he might have used. I was sure that he hadn’t known I was following him, so he wouldn’t have asked to use the store’s rear exit to elude me. I decided I had better investigate. I crossed the street, eased up to the glass door and saw immediately that, except for the chubby, youngish woman behind the counter, the store was empty. My man had gone.
    I went into the store. There was a phone booth in the corner; there was no one in it.
    “Yes, miss?” The lady’s voice was sweet as sugar. “Can I help you?”
    “I saw a young fellow come in here a few minutes ago… I thought I recognized him…”
    “You mean Jack Walston? He’s the last person came in.”
    “Yes! Jack Walston! I haven’t seen him for years.”
    “Not for years, huh? Where’d you