Death of a Doxy (Crime Line)

He nodded. "Naturally I've thought about it. If she ever said a single damn thing about anyone that might give a hint I can't dig it up. I realize that there's only one way you can spring me, and God knows I wish I could give you a steer, but I swear I can't. Sure, she told me about people, men who made passes at her, women she liked and some she didn't like, but I have gone over it and over it and came up with nothing. I know you have to start somewhere, and that's the other thing, besides Jill, I wanted to tell you. The woman she liked best, and saw the most of, is a night-club singer named Julie Jaquette. Her real name is Amy Jackson. She was at the Ten Little Indians week before last and may still be there. She would probably be the best bet. Have you got anything yet? Anything at all?"

"No. Did you ever meet the sister, Stella Fleming?"

"No. Isabel talked about her. She said that when we were married not only would she be happy, her sister would be too. I was supposed to get a kick out of that, making two women happy at once."

"You should have. Did she ever mention -" I stopped because we were about to be interrupted. The dick was coming. He touched Orrie on the shoulder, which was unnecessary, and said time was up. I raised my voice. "What's your name?"

He looked down his nose at me. "My name?"

"Yes. Your personal name."

"My name is William Flanagan."

"Another William." I rose. "I'm going to report you for brutality. Mr. Cather is merely detained as a material witness. You didn't have to grab his shoulder." I turned and headed for the door, and the dick who had brought me in joined me as I reached for the knob.

William Flanagan hadn't stopped anything important; I had only been going to ask if Isabel had ever mentioned Dr. Gamm.