“Yeah, they’re going to love the whole thing.”

Dino looked up. “Maybe she jumped,” he said. “Who’s to say she was pushed?”

“Then who went pounding down the stairs at the moment I arrived on the scene?” Stone asked. “The moving men?”

“No sign of a struggle,” Dino observed.

“In a room full of cardboard boxes, who can say?”

“No glasses out for a guest, if What’s-his-name did show.”

“The liquor’s packed, like everything else. I’ve had a look around, I didn’t see any. She didn’t sound in any mood to offer him a drink, anyway.” Stone sighed. “Come on, let’s go over the place before the Keystone Kops get here.”

“Yeah, Leary’s got the watch,” Dino said.

The two men combed the apartment from one end to the other. Stone used a penlight to search the corners of the terrace.

“Nothing,” Dino said, when they were through.

“Maybe everything,” Stone said. “We’ve got the diary, her address book, and a stack of change-of-address cards, already addressed. Those are the important people, I reckon. I’ll bet the perp is in that stack.” He took out his notebook and began jotting down names and addresses. Apart from the department stores and credit card companies, there were fewer than a dozen. Had she had so few friends, or had she just not gotten through the list before she died? He looked over the names: alphabetical. She had made it through the W’s.

They heard the elevator doors open, and two detectives walked in, followed by a one-man video crew. He was small, skinny, and he looked overburdened by the camera, battery belt, sound pack, and glaring lights.

“You, out,” Dino said. “This is a crime scene.”

“Why do you think I’m here?” the cameraman said. He produced a press card. “Scoop Berman,” he said. “Scoop Video.”

“The man said this is a crime scene, Scoop,” Stone said, propelling the little man toward the door.

“Hey, what crime?” Scoop said, digging in his heels.