Chapter Forty-four
There was a certain mystery to Agent Emerson’s appearance at our office. In an indirect way, she had called our attention to several unfamiliar males who could be behind the bomb threats. What I didn’t understand was if she had already zeroed in on one or two individuals, why was she parading them past our eyes? And why did she show us a picture of Betty and her friend? Every time I thought about it, the creepy feeling returned. Marly and I talked about the photos, but she was not especially interested in prying into the minutiae. That, she said, was the FBI’s job.
Sleep did not come easy. I was tired the next day and felt the show dragged. I couldn’t wait until five o’clock, and then I didn’t want to go home alone. I invited Marly to my apartment on the pretext we nee
