The Mugger 87th Precinct Series, Book 2 - By Ed McBain Page 0,12

Kling sat in one of the easy chairs. Bell hovered over him, being the gracious host. “Can I get you something? A glass of beer? Cigar? Anything?”

“The last time I had a glass of beer,” Kling said, “I got shot right afterward.”

“Well, ain’t nobody going to shoot you here. Come on, have a glass. We’ve got some cold in the Frigidaire.”

“No, thanks anyway,” Kling said politely.

Molly Bell came into the room, drying her hands on a dish towel.

“You must be Bert,” she said. “Peter’s told me all about you.” She gave her right hand a final wipe and then crossed to where Kling had stood up and extended her hand. Kling took it, and she squeezed it warmly. In describing her, Bell had said, “Molly’s no slouch—even now, pregnant and all.” Kling hated to disagree, but he honestly found very little that was attractive in Molly Bell. She might at one time have been a knockout, but those days were gone forever. Even discounting the additional waist-high bulge of the expectant mother, Kling saw only a washed-out blonde with faded blue eyes. The eyes were very tired, and wrinkles radiated from their edges. Her hair had no luster; it hung from her head disconsolately. Her smile did not help, because it happened to be a radiant smile, which served only as a contrast for the otherwise drab face. He was a little shocked, partly because of Bell’s advance publicity, partly because he realized the girl couldn’t have been much older than twenty-four or twenty-five.

“How do you do, Mrs. Bell?” he said.

“Oh, call me Molly. Please.” There was something very warm about Molly, and he found himself liking her immensely and somewhat disliking Bell for giving a buildup, which couldn’t fail to be disappointing. He wondered, too, if Jeannie was the “knockout” Bell had described. He had his doubts now.

“I’ll get you a beer, Bert,” Bell said.

“No, really, I—”

“Come on, come on,” Bell said, overriding him and starting out toward the kitchen.

When he was gone, Molly said, “I’m so glad you could come, Bert. I think your talking to her will do a lot of good.”

“Well, I’ll try,” Kling said. “Where is she?”

“In her room.” Molly gestured with her head toward the other end of the house. “With the door locked.” She shook her head. “That’s what I mean. She behaves so strangely. I was seventeen once, Bert, and I didn’t behave that way. She’s a girl with troubles.”

Kling nodded noncommittally.

Molly sat, her hands folded in her lap, her feet close together. “I was a fun-loving girl when I was seventeen,” Molly said, somewhat wistfully. “You can ask Peter. But Jeannie…I don’t know. She’s a girl with secrets. Secrets, Bert.” She shook her head again. “I try to be a sister and a mother both to her, but she won’t tell me a thing. There’s a wall between us, something that was never there before, and I can’t understand it. Sometimes I think…I think she hates me. Now, why should she hate me? I’ve never done a thing to her, not a thing.” Molly paused, sighing heavily.

“Well,” Kling said diplomatically, “you know how kids are.”

“Yes, I do,” Molly said. “It hasn’t been so long ago that I’ve forgotten. I’m only twenty-four, Bert. I know I look a lot older than that, but taking care of two kids can knock you out—and now another one coming. It isn’t easy. And trying to handle Jeannie, too. It takes a lot out of a woman. But I was seventeen, too, and not so long ago, and I can remember. Jeannie isn’t acting right. Something’s troubling her, Bert. I read so much about teenagers belonging to gangs and what not. I’m afraid. I think she may be in with a bad crowd, kids who are making her do bad things. That’s what’s troubling her, I think. I don’t know. Maybe you can find out.”

“Well, I’ll certainly try.”

“I’d appreciate it. I asked Peter to get a private detective, but he said we couldn’t afford it. He’s right, of course. God knows, I can barely make ends meet with what he brings home.” She sighed again. “But the big thing is Jeannie. If I can just find out what’s wrong with her, what’s made her the way she is now. She didn’t used to be like this, Bert. It’s only…I don’t know…about a year ago now, I suppose. She suddenly became a young lady, and just as suddenly, she…she’s slipped away from me.”

Bell came back into the