CHAPTER 7Don’s expression was noncommittal, but his thoughts were bitter.
If Frank Wilmar had only let me know what you were up to, you wouldn’t be lying there now, like some carcass on the floor of an abattoir. If I had only cautioned you about the danger of making a solo investigation, you’d be at All-Wool Argyles right now. We were to blame, not you.
“She worked in your haberdashery department?” the Captain asked.
“Had as fine a record as any salesgirl on the floor.” Don foresaw the line of reasoning.
“Selling shorts like that pair?”
“Socks, mostly. I’m not about to involve Ambletts in a newspaper sensation, Captain.”
The Homicide man pressed the point. “Maybe she’d been sneaking some goods out of the store. There’s a tag on those shorts; they’re new.”
“You won’t find anyone at A
