I said, “I’m just trying to place her. I’ve seen her somewhere, but I don’t think I have ever met her. I’ve seen her before. That’s certain. I can’t remember whether she had this apartment. It may come to me later.”
I nudged Bertha to get a good look at the pictures. I needn’t have bothered. Cutler reached out his hand for the photographs. Bertha snatched them from me and said, “Let’s take a good look at her.”
We studied the pictures, looking at them together. I have a habit of trying to reconstruct character from photographs. This girl was about the same build as Roberta. The faces were only vaguely similar. Roberta had a straight nose, eyes that could be quizzical or thoughtful. This girl looked more of the light-headed, light-hearted type. She would laugh or smile or cry just as the mood happened to strike her, but she wouldn’t have thought about what was coming next. Roberta might laugh, but she’d be thinking while she was laughing. Roberta wouldn’t let herself go — not all the way. She’d always have a hand on the emergency brake somewhere. This girl in the picture was a reckless gambler. She’d risk everything on the turn of a card, would take it for granted if she won, and would have stared in stupefied disbelief if she’d lost. She’d never consider the possibility of losing while she was gambling. Roberta was the type who would never risk anything on a gamble that she couldn’t afford to lose.
So far as build and figure and complexion were concerned, it looked as if they were sufficiently similar to wear each other’s clothes.
Bertha handed the pictures back to Cutler.
“Seems rather young,” I said.
Cutler nodded. “She’s ten years younger than I am. I suppose that may have had something to do with it. However, I don’t want to bore you with my troubles. I came here to see if I could get some proof that she was living here. I should be able to find someone who knows.”
“I’m sorry I can’t be of more help,” I told him. “Perhaps it will come to me later on. Where can I reach you?”
He gave me his card, Marco Cutler, Stocks and Bonds, Hollywood. I put it in my pocket and promised I’d communicate with him if I found myself able to remember anything more about the tenant that had been in the apartment three years ago.
Goldring said, “I’m in the telephone book. Give me a ring if you get any dope before Mr. Cutler goes back. An’ if you’ve got any papers you want solved, give me a chance at ‘em.”