Page 48 - Labelle Gramercy, On the Case

Thrown for a Loss

lady wouldn’t have gone into Obie’s Itty-Burgers or Rex Beck’s Tex-
Mex, just next-door to Krumpet Kozy, or any of the other eateries on
the second floor. Probably came up here just for tea, then right back
to the first floor and the higher class establishments for some refined
window shopping before dragging her granddaughter back to a
comfortable but boring home for the rest of the day. No wonder the
girl seemed so naïve.
If Labelle Gramercy had intended to continue questioning Miss
Pratt, it didn’t happen. A woman in a very starched white blouse and
dark navy skirt approached us from the western end of the hall. I
didn’t know you could get pleats like that in fabric anymore. She
evidently recognized the lieutenant, because she ignored her and went
to the girl. Ignored me, too. Autumn looked up like a lost puppy and
locked into the solemn but friendly gaze of a police matron. Were
such women real cops, I wondered, or just glorified prison guards? I
released the girl’s hand and she stood up, head drooping.
“Hey, this lady’s here to help, not to put the cuffs on you,” I said,
trying to be cheerful.

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I don’t think anyone appreciated my efforts. Autumn and the
matron marched off together in silence. Labelle looked past me and
was on her feet striding toward the escalator landing before I could
say a word. Waylon had arrived with his rolling work bench and tool
kit, and was standing there scratching his head while he surveyed the
scene. I got up and followed. No telling how he’d react to Labelle
Gramercy. He could get his back up if he thought he was being
criticized. On the other hand, he liked tall women.
The guy had a big smile on his face when he saw Labelle heading
straight for him. Then he looked up into her eyes and whatever smart
remark he was about to make froze on his lips. Like all people on the
bottom of the totem pole, he had a certain way of acting and talking
when he dealt with management. By the time I got to them, she had
introduced herself and he had slipped into that cautious sort of
respect useful in avoiding commitment to something you shouldn’t
really be volunteering for. As a handyman with technical skills, he
took pains to distinguish himself from the clean-up crew. His overalls

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