"How much you make?"
Another twenty joined its friend.
"Ah." He walked off, pressing his hand to the pocket that held the crisp, non-reimbursable bills and Rune turned back to her task.
The smart thing would have been to find out which rows of apartments looked out over the courtyard where Lance Hopper had been shot but she didn't know how soon the Slavic-Ruskie South American capitalist would be back to suck up another bribe. So she started at the top left of the directory. From Myron Zuckerman in 1B she speed wrote straight down to Mr., or Ms., L. Peters in 8K.
Twenty minutes later, the doorman returned, just as she finished.
"Still studying?" he asked snidely.
"I just finished."
"So tell me, yeah, which company you with? One of the big ones? Am I right?"
"It's a big one," Rune said.
"Is in Jersey, right?"
"How'd you guess?"
"I've been around. I seen a lot. You can't fool me."
"I wouldn't even try."
SCORCHING PAIN ROAMED AROUND IN HER BACK. THE INside of her ear was sweating. Her voice had gone from low soprano to throaty alto and she'd have to clear her windpipe with a stinging snap every few minutes. Rune had been sitting in her cubicle at the studio, speaking into a phone, for nearly eight hours straight.
Hello I'm a producer for Current Events the news program Mr. Zuckerman Norris Williams Roth Gelinker we're doing a segment about the Lance Hopper killing you probably remember the man killed in the courtyard of your building several years ago I'm hoping you can help me what I'm looking for is...
It was late, after eight o'clock. Past bedtime for Courtney. The little girl sat at Rune's feet, tearing scheduling sheets into the shape of Easter bunnies.
... How long have you lived in apartment 3B, 3C, 3D, 3E, 3F ...?
"Rune, bunny."
Whispering, hand over mouthpiece: "Beautiful, honey. I'm on the phone. Make a momma Easter bunny now."
"That is the mommy."
"Then make a daddy."
Rune's poll of the tenants so far:
One was Miss Breckman. Eight had unlisted numbers. Twenty weren't home when she called. Thirty-three had moved into their apartments after Hopper's
death. Eighteen hadn't been home the night of the killing (or said they hadn't). Nineteen were home but didn't see anything related to the murder (or said they didn't).
That left twelve on her list.
A bad number. If there'd been only three she would've called them. Twenty, she'd have given up and gone home to sleep. But twelve ...
Rune sighed and stretched, hearing some remote bone protest with a pop.
Courtney yawned and tore a bunny in half with fidgety glee.
Quitting time, Rune thought. I'm going home. Then she thought of Sutton's raspy, bitchy voice and fuming eyes and she picked up the phone.
Which was fortunate because when she asked Mr. Frost, 6B, if he knew anything about the Lance Hopper killing he paused for only a moment then responded, "Actually ... I saw it happen."