He moseyed to the kitchen to bolster his sparse lunch where he found Fred eating sauerkraut, a gift from a neighbor lady, direct­ly from a jar.

"God, Fred. That'll give you more gas than the Hindenberg," Dean said but he couldn't be sure he was heard over the din of music and vacuum.

Finally, he donned his jacket and escaped up the street to a luncheonette where he ordered pie and ice cream. On the spur of the moment he picked up the phone and dialed Cece Baldwin, a number he now had committed to memory from the many unsuc­cessful times he'd made the call. Surprisingly, a woman's voice answered on the first ring. Dean introduced himself and told her he was interested in discussing Jeffrey Byrne.

There was a long pause. "I go to work at 5:30," she answered.

"May I meet you someplace? It won't take much time." She agreed to meet him at a highway coffee shop he remembered on the outskirts of Bala Cynwyd, in an hour and a half. Dean didn't stop at the house, knowing he'd have to explain his trip to Fred and take him along. This chore he wanted to do alone.

Cece Baldwin was the only person seated at the counter when Dean arrived at the designated shop, only a few minutes before the allotted time. She was a pretty girl, but not in a way that would attract much attention. She was no more than 20 or 21, he guessed. A stack of books rested in front of her and she sipped a cup of black coffee. There was a sad but determined look about the young lady.

"Hi," she said as he sat. "I guess you're the cop." She contin­ued to sip her coffee.

Dean ordered a cup and showed her his credentials, but she hardly glanced at them. "You don't seem surprised to have me con­tact you," he asked, "How come?"

"Denise-one of the girls in the file room-said the police were doing a check on Jeff. I figured you'd get to me sooner or later."

"Why?"

She sighed. "Because someone was sure to have spotted us together. I know that office. Everybody thinks everybody else is sleeping with each other just because half of them are."

"Jeffrey Byrne was..." he hesitated, "...a friend of yours?"

She stared down at her cup. "Yes."

"You cared for him?"

She looked Dean straight in the eye. "Yes, I cared for him. He was the only one up there who had a lick of decency. It's a damn shame what happened to him. I cried for three days."

"Were you having an affair with him?" She immediately rose and started to leave. He reached out and stopped her. "I'm sorry. That was out of line."




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