“I’m not the police.”
“No, you’re not. You’re much more powerful and can cause more harm.” With a sigh, she raised her hand for the oath.
“What do you think you heard?” he asked.
“I can’t say for certain. A last name maybe.” She lifted her delicate head in thought for a time. “I’ve thought about that a lot. Did I really hear that, that morning? Or some word that sounded like it, but was something else. Like
butcher
or…I don’t know.”
Why would Pincus as a beggar yell that word? He waited for her to expand on her uncertainty, but she said nothing more. From a case, he withdrew an enlarged photo of Boucher’s side of the boulevard, taped on a board, and passed the enlargement across. “Would you indicate where you passed when you thought you heard the shout?” he asked.
She laid the phot
