Time Off for Murder by Zelda Popkin Page A

had kept the bank from foreclosing it. Ever since his wife died - that must have been two years ago, at least, he kept coming in to talk over his troubles with Miss Knight. All his troubles, his health, his eyes, his rheumatism. Maybe he hadn't any other place to go to talk. And that Duda girl Miss Knight defended in the Bronx. You'd think Miss Knight was her mother. Wouldn't buy a dress without coming in here to ask her if it was all right."
    Â Â "Interesting, but not immediately important." Miss Carner looked at her wrist watch. "What about the report that Miss Knight was helping the District Attorney's office in the Nardello case?" she asked.
    Â Â Struthers scowled. "I don't know much about that," he said. "I had hoped she'd stay out of it. I mentioned my feelings about it to her. I know it was presumptuous of me…. But I'm older - that's something, isn't it?…But she went ahead. Said it was her duty….I don't think she was very deep in it. I know that she had a few conferences downtown at the District Attorney's. If you look back in the diary you'll find them noted down. She asked me to get the D.A. on the phone Wednesday afternoon…."
    Â Â "Did she reach him?"
    Â Â "No. He was out. I asked whether to call again. She said no, she'd contact him some other time."
    Â Â "What were her sources of information?"
    Â Â "I wouldn't know." Struthers' face puckered. "Unless it was through Sophie Duda."
    Â Â Detective Reese wrote in his little notebook "Find Sophie Duda" and said: "Any idea where the girl is now?"
    Â Â "I think so, sir. We have her address on file. She's got a job now, in Flatbush - a nursemaid."
    Â Â "She killed her own baby," Mary said wonderingly. "Yet people aren't afraid to hire her to mind theirs."
    Â Â "That was different." Struthers' voice had become gentle. "She was a victim in the whole thing, half crazy with fear. . . You must have read about it in the papers…. Miss Knight got her this job. The people know all about her. She's making good there. She's really a nice kid. Please don't frighten her, sir. She'd rather not be bothered by the police." His face seemed drawn and distressed. "People who've been in trouble once, don't like to be questioned by the police."
    Â Â "You'd know that, wouldn't you?" Johnny Reese said quietly.
    Â Â The secretary gripped the edge of the desk. His knuckles were white.
    Â Â "They don't like jury fixers in this town, do they, Clarkson?" Johnny Reese said. "When they catch them they send them up the river and they can't practise law any more, can they? The hair is gone. The glasses are new but the face hasn't changed. A funny spot to find you in, Clarkson. A hell of a funny spot."
    Â Â The secretary fumbled for a chair. He sagged into it. "I was wondering," he said hopelessly, "how soon somebody would realize it was."
    Â Â Mary Carner flashed an admiring nod toward the young detective. Then she turned back to Struthers. "Did Miss Knight know about your past?" she asked.
    Â Â The man nodded.
    Â Â "Yet she hired you for a reputable law office?
    Â Â Struthers' face was scarlet. "A man has a right to make a living, hasn't he?" he stammered. "One mistake - he doesn't have to starve forever for that. I don't think she regretted it. My knowledge of law, my experience, contacts. I was a great help to her." He bent forward. "Oh, I wish Miss Knight'd come back," he wailed. "There are so many things…It's all so difficult for me now."

    ***
    Johnny Reese was exceedingly busy in the twenty-four hours which followed. He made a trip to Flatbush Monday afternoon and he dug a garden in Manhattan Tuesday morning.
    Â Â Out in Flatbush, he found an angry woman, in a soiled satin housecoat, shushing a crying baby in the disheveled living room of an over-dressed house.
    Â Â "Sophie. Don't talk to me about Sophie," the lady shrilled. "I might of known better. My kind heart. My good heart. That's