“You’re certain?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t send her a letter a couple of days before she disappeared?”
“No.”
I said, “She was blond. I don’t think she was the type to do things on impulse exactly. Like to see her picture?”
“Gosh, yes. You got one?”
I guided her into a lighted doorway and took the pictures from my pocket. They were a little cracked where Louie had pushed wrinkles in my coat when he jerked it back from my shoulders and down my arms.
“See. She looks quick on the trigger, but she’s a thinker:”
“How can you tell that?”
“From the lines of her face.”