CHAPTER 3I drove back to the neighborhood of her apartment, which was pretty much my own neighborhood, on the Near North Side, and got some breakfast. The story of Lorrie King’s suicide was in the morning paper, and I read through it while I ate.
Her age was given as twenty-six. There had been no note, no goodbye. A maid had discovered her in the bathtub, had fainted, then roused herself and called the police. An autopsy disclosed that she had died of drowning, despite the evidence that she had cut her wrists and swallowed sleeping pills. There had been no other signs of violence. The apartment had been in good order and there had been no sign of visitors. Police had closed the case as a suicide.
Aside from the death itself, there was little information. Lorrie King had been active in ar
