Chapter 29

The man who answered the door had gray hair around the sides and was bald on top.

He was about 5.10, with a strong nose, and was probably once quite attractive.

His dark eyes were hollow as if they were a long way away, and not really in this body which he seemed to inhabit.

He looked at me, and did not speak, but raised an

eyebrow as if by way of asking me what I wanted. Richard Marsh, I asked. He nodded,

but still did not speak. My name is Trixie Dixon, I said, Jack Justice's partner. The dark

eyes welled over slightly, and his expression softened.

I think you better come in, Miss Dixon, he said, allowing me to step past him into the front hallway,

just down here, and indicated a doorway toward the back of the house, which opened to reveal a small but

comfortable parlor. On the table by the chair where Marsh had clearly been sitting before, I knocked.

There was an old-fashioned glass, half full of something brown,

and a newspaper whose banner headline proudly bore the triumphant news,

Police get their man, fugitive, cop killer, dies in tense standoff.

Can I get you something to drink?'

"'Miss Dixon,' he asked,

"'opening a cupboard above a small side table

"'to reveal a modest bar.

"'I really shouldn't,' I said,

"'before hastily adding,

"'perhaps just a small one.

"'Gin?' he asked.

...