“Nah.” Bauer reached into the icebox, removed a bottle of beer, and unerringly opened the drawer in which the opener was kept. A memory like an elephant, Conway reflected. Not to mention a skin. “I been using up energy and gasoline and getting nowhere.”
“How about Taylor? Have you found him?”
“We’ve found sixteen Harry Taylors in the phone book, but none of ’em is the Harry Taylor who knew you. Like I told you, I don’t think it makes any difference if we find him or not — it only makes me mad that we ain’t been able to.”
The sergeant had found one of the good glasses and was pouring his beer as Conway finished making his own drink. “How did you make out with the girl? You must have done all right.”
“What girl?”
“What was her name — Elsie Daniels? The one who first reported the car. Remember, you told me you had to see her, and fix Ramsden’s saying the police had found the car? I notice she hasn’t said anything to the papers.”
“Oh, her.” The sergeant’s voice expressed his scorn for Miss Daniels and his own achievement. “She’s so dumb I don’t think she can read. All she saw in the papers was the pictures of her and this crumb she’s so nuts about. I talked to the two of ’em together. So help me, if Greta ever behaved like that in front of anybody, I’d walk out on her. Disgusting.”
“What do you mean? From the pictures she looked like a nice, simple, attractive girl.”
“Simple is right. And what can you tell from them newspaper pictures? Look at the ones of me.” The recollection depressed Bauer to such an extent that he finished his beer and took another bottle from the icebox.
“At any rate, you kept her from spoiling Ramsden’s story to the papers.”