“Now you think you know her,” said Milo.
“I can’t be certain,” said Koppel. “If it is her, I only saw her a couple of times—literally. Two times.” He glanced at the photo again. “The way she is here, it’s hard to say . . .”
“Death’ll do that to you.”
Koppel swallowed air. Forked a strip of bacon, lost it midair, and watched it land just shy of his plate. He picked it up between his fingers, set it back next to the mound of eggs, kissed the grease on his fingertips.
“Where do you think you might’ve seen her, Mr. Koppel?” said Milo.
“She might be a girl I saw at Jerry Quick’s office. Hanging around with Jerry’s secretary.”
“Jerry’s secretary . . .”
“Angie Paul.”
“You know Angie personally?”
“I know her from coming over to talk to Jerry about the rent.” Koppel scratched the side of his nose. “You’re interested in her, as well? She always made me wonder.”
“About what?”
“She didn’t seem to do much. She wasn’t who I’d pick as a secretary. Then again, she probably didn’t have to make much of an impression.”
“Why’s that?”
“Not much traffic at Jerry’s office. I’ve never seen anyone there but the two of them.”
“And possibly this girl?”
“Maybe,” said Koppel. “Only maybe.”
Milo said, “You don’t drop in very often at Mr. Quick’s office, but this girl was there twice.”
Koppel flushed. “I don’t . . . all I’m saying—what do I know? If I wasted your time, I’m sorry.”
Milo placed an index finger on a corner of the death shot.
Sonny Koppel said, “This must seem strange to you. First I say I don’t know her, then I call you.”
Milo smiled.
“I’m just trying to do the right thing, Lieutenant.”
“We appreciate that, sir. What else can you tell us about this girl?”
“Just that,” said Koppel, peering at the death shot for several more seconds. “It could be her.”
“A girl hanging around with Angie in Mr. Quick’s front office.”
“That was the first time. Two, three months ago. The second time was more recent—six weeks ago. I saw the two of them—her and Angie—as they left the building together. It was lunchtime, I assumed they were going out to lunch.”
“Where’d they go to eat?”
“I didn’t follow them, Lieutenant. I was there to see Jerry.”
“About the rent.”
“Yes.” Koppel scratched behind his ear. “I’m getting the feeling that by trying to do what’s right I’m complicating my life.”
“In what way, sir?”
“Like I said, it must seem funny to you.” Koppel pushed the photo toward Milo. “Anyway, that’s all I know.”
Milo passed the shot from hand to hand, like a three-card monte artist. “Hanging around with Angie.”
“Talking. Like girls do.”
“Girls just wanna have fun,” said Milo.
“They didn’t seem to be having fun,” said Koppel. “What I mean is they weren’t laughing or giggling. In fact, the time I saw them leaving together I figured it for some sort of serious discussion because when they saw me they shut up fast.”
“Serious discussion on the way to lunch.”
“Maybe they weren’t going to eat. I’m assuming because it was lunchtime.”
“Did Angie call the other girl by name?”
“No.”
“What else can you tell me about her? Physically.”
“She wasn’t tall—average. Slim. She had a good figure. But she was a bit . . . she didn’t look like someone who’d grown up with money.”
“Nouveau riche?” said Milo.
“No,” said Koppel. “More . . . her clothes were nice but maybe a little too . . . obvious? Like she wanted to be noticed? Maybe she wore a bit too much makeup, I can’t really remember—I don’t want to tell you things that aren’t accurate.”
“A little flashy.”
Koppel shook his head. “That wasn’t it. I don’t want to be cruel . . . she looked . . . a little trashy. Like her hair. No hair is that blond naturally, unless you’re five years old, right?”
“Sounds like you had a good look at her.”
“I noticed her,” said Koppel. “She was pretty. And shapely. I’m a guy, you know how it is.”