"Cindy Kirschner?"
"That's the name. Gosh, I don't know where you'd find her. I think I saw her downtown once a year ago. Maybe it's in the book. But I don't think she'd fit any better than my cousin. I mean Timmy Warden ran around with his own group, kind of. Big shots in the school. That Kirschner wasn't in that class, any more than my cousin. Or me."
The bitterness was implicit in her tone. I thanked her again. She hung up.
I tried Kirschner. There was only one in the book. Ralph J. A woman answered the phone.
"I'm trying to locate a Cindy Kirschner who graduated from Hillston High in nineteen forty-eight."
"That's my daughter. Who is this calling, please?"
"Could you tell me how I could locate her?"
"She married, but she doesn't have a phone. They have to use the one at the corner store. She doesn't like to have people call her there because it's a nuisance to the people at the store. And she has small children she doesn't like to leave to go down there and answer the phone. If you want to see her, you could go out there. It's sixteen ten Blackman Street. It's near the corner of Butternut. A little blue house. Her name is Mrs. Rorick now. Mrs. Pat Rorick. What did you say your name is?"
I repeated the directions and said, "Thanks very much, Mrs. Kirschner. I appreciate your help. Good-by."
I hung up. I was tempted to try Cynthia Cooper, but decided I had better take one at a time, eliminate one before starting the next. I stepped out of the booth. Earl Fitzmartin stepped out of the adjoining booth. He smiled at me almost genially.