She touched my hand in guiding the flame to her cigarette. I could feel her arm trembling. The tips of her fingers were cold.
“How did you find me?”
“Easy.”
“No. It couldn’t have been.”
“You forget I’m a detective.”
“I don’t care if you’re the whole police force. It wasn’t easy. I’ve been around enough to know how to take care of myself when I’m in a jam.”
“All right, what difference does it make whether it was easy or hard? I found you, didn’t I?”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to hear your story.”
“I haven’t any.”