“They range in size from a cozy room for eight or ten people to larger ones that will accommodate twenty or thirty. One of the smaller ones had been set aside for Lieutenant Hardy, and I found Chambrun there with him.
A large coffee maker had been set up on a side table and there was a platter of cold meats and bread for sandwiches. Chambrun and Hardy were sitting at the main table. To one side was a uniformed cop poised in front of a stenotype machine.
“Find your girl?” Chambrun asked as I came in.
“Thin air,” I said. “She left Fourteen B at the right time, but she never showed. I guess she got hungry for her young man.”
“I’m hungry for him, too,” Hardy muttered. “I need a rundown on that mob of kids.”
Chambrun took a sip of coffee and made a face. This wasn’t his favorite Turkish. “You missed the limousine driver,” he said to me. “He backs up Doug Maxwell’s story a hundred percent. They left the Maxwell house at five minutes to seven. He keeps a chart like a taxi driver.
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