“Well, that’s just about all there is to it. I had this letter delivered to me. It was addressed to Helen Framley, General Delivery, Las Vegas. The post office just happened to catch it, knew that I had an apartment here, and changed the address so that it was delivered to this address.”
There was a night light in a grocery store on a side street. It gave sufficient illumination to see things — more or less clearly. I stopped her in front of the window. “Let’s see it.”
“If Pug ever knew—”
“What business is it of his?”
“Really,” she flared, “it isn’t. I told him at the start it was just a business partnership. He’s insanely jealous. Of course, he keeps wanting more — and then he hates the law. He says that it’s very evident there was some other Helen Framley in Las Vegas, just passing through, and that I got a letter intended for her. I don’t know. I can’t make it out, but Pug says I mustn’t stick my neck out.”
“The letter.”
“You promise you won’t—”
“Hurry up,” I said. “You haven’t got all night. Neither have I. Let’s see it.”
She opened her purse, took out an envelope, and handed it to me.
I put it in my pocket.