Long Time No See by Ed McBain

company.”
    “That’s right.”
    “In the mailroom.”
    “Yes.”
    “How long had she been working for you, Mr. Preston?”
    “Two, three years.”
    “What were her duties?”
    “She inserted our catalogues into envelopes.”
    “Who else worked in the mailroom with her?”
    “She worked there alone. Another girl typed up the labels and put them on the envelopes. But that was in the outer office.”
    “What’s the other girl’s name?”
    “Jennie D’Amato. She also answers phones and serves as receptionist.”
    “Would you know her address?”
    “Not offhand. If you call the office on Monday, she’ll give it to you.”
    “How many people do you employ, Mr. Preston?”
    “There’s just myself and three girls in the office—two without Isabel.”
    “What’s the third girl’s name?”
    “Nancy Houlihan, she’s my bookkeeper.”
    “Do you employ anyone who works outside the office?”
    “Yes, at the warehouse.”
    “Where’s the warehouse?”
    “About ten blocks from the office. On the river.”
    “Who do you employ there?”
    “Just two men to make up the orders and pack them and ship them.”
    “So the way the operation works…”
    “It’s direct mail,” Preston said. “We send out the advertising matter, and when we receive orders, they’re filled at the warehouse. It’s a very small operation.”
    “These two men working at the warehouse—did they ever come up to the office?”
    “On Fridays. To pick up their paychecks.”
    “Would they have had any contact with Isabel Harris?”
    “They knew her, yes.”
    “What are their names?”
    “Alex Carr and Tommy Runniman.”
    “Would you know their addresses?”
    “You’ll have to get those on Monday. Just call the office anytime after nine.”
    “Mr. Preston, how did Isabel get along with the other employees?”
    “Fine.”
    “No problems?”
    “None that I knew of.”
    “How did you get along with her?”
    “Me?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “I hardly knew her.”
    “You said she’d been working there for two, three years…”
    “That’s right. But I rarely had any personal contact with the employees.”
    “How’d you happen to hire her, Mr. Preston?”
    “I’d been thinking of hiring someone handicapped for a long time. The job doesn’t require eyesight. It’s merely inserting catalogues into envelopes.”
    “How much were you paying her, Mr. Preston?”
    “She was being paid comparable wages.”
    “Comparable?”
    “To the other girls.”
    “Not more?”
    “ More ?”
    “Yes, sir. I’m trying to determine whether anyone would have had a reason for bearing a grudge or—”
    “No, she wasn’t paid more, comparably, than the other girls.”
    “Sir, there’s that word ‘comparably’ again.”
    “What I’m saying, Mr. Carella, is that you can’t expect someone working in the mailroom to be paid the same wages as a bookkeeper or a typist, that’s what I’m saying. Comparably, she was being paid what a sighted person doing her sort of work would be paid. Neither more nor less. The other two girls would have had no reason for enmity.”
    “How about the men from the warehouse?”
    “I don’t know what you mean.”
    “Mrs. Harris was an attractive woman. Did either of them ever make a play for her?”
    “I have no idea.”
    “But they came to the office every Friday to pick up their paychecks.”
    “That’s correct.”
    “Did you see them on those occasions?”
    “Nancy made out their checks. Nancy Houlihan, my bookkeeper.”
    “But you told me they knew Mrs. Harris.”
    “Yes, I assume they did.”
    “Well…Did you ever see them talking to her?”
    “Yes.”
    “But you wouldn’t know whether either of them made advances—”
    “No, I—”
    “And were rebuffed—”
    “I wouldn’t know.”
    “Mr. Preston, I think you know what I’m looking for. I’m trying to find out whether anyone Isabel worked with would have the slightest possible reason for—”
    “Yes, I know exactly what