Hildegarde Withers Makes the Scene Read Free Page B

you would be just the one to handle it. Besides, you happen to be on the scene.”
    “Thank you, Oscar. You have such an ingratiating way of putting things. Precisely what is this simple little job?”
    “Finding a runaway, that’s all. A wandering flower child. Her name is Lenore Gregory, aged twenty-one, and she took a powder about two weeks ago. It’s not really a police job, certainly not Homicide’s, but I’d like to lend a hand if I can. Her parents are really in the saucepot. Father says Mother is on the verge of a breakdown.”
    “‘What quality of fools is this?’”
    “What’s that?”
    “Never mind. Some words of Tennyson. A sadly neglected poet these days.”
    “Oh. We have reason to believe that this girl may be in Los Angeles, Hildy, or in the immediate area. Naturally, I thought of you right away, stuck out there in exile and probably dying to get back in harness.”
    “Oscar, you seem to be afflicted with that strange provincialism that is common in many New Yorkers. You simply cannot rid yourself of the illusion that the nation beyond your city limits is composed entirely of countryside and villages. For your information, Los Angeles is a sizable city. In the matter of square miles, indeed, it is considerably larger than New York. Are you seriously suggesting that I comb the area in search of one small, wayward girl?”
    “Use your ingenuity. You’ll manage.”
    “It’s flattering of you to think so. Or is it merely artful. Consider, for example, the question of transportation. As you know, I don’t drive. How do you expect me to get from one place to another?”
    “That’s no problem. Fly. Use your broomstick.”
    “Very funny, Oscar. Very funny, indeed.”
    “Seriously, Hildy, I wish you’d take it on. Listen to me. Lenore Gregory is a lovely girl. Her father’s a corporation lawyer, well heeled, and the girl is apparently carrying a bundle with her. Over a grand. She’s driving a Volkswagen with a gaudy paint job of daffodils, so it ought to stick out like a sore thumb even in that loony-bin you live in. Moreover, as I said, she’s one of the flower children. She’s probably gone straight to wherever the hippies are. You must know the places in your neck of the woods. If not, you can find out. That should restrict your search considerably. Will you give it a try?”
    “Why should I?” The retired schoolma’am’s sniff was clearly audible on the other side of the continent. “How many times have you referred to me as a gadfly, Oscar Piper? How many times have you told me that the New York Police Department is perfectly capable of getting along without my help?”
    “Judas Priest in a jug! Don’t tell me you’re getting paranoid in your old age! All right, Hildy. If it gives you any pleasure to make me squirm, I apologize. Be a good girl and lend a hand. It’ll get the rust out of your pipes, and it’ll get me off the hook with the commissioner. Tell you what I’ll do. If you’ll play ball, I’ll give you a call the next time we have a really juicy murder here, and you can come running.”
    “Is that a promise?”
    “My oath on the Book.”
    “Oscar, you’ve got your fingers crossed.”
    “Hildy!”
    “Oh, all right. You’ve known perfectly well all along that I wouldn’t be able to resist. If I locate this girl, what am I supposed to do with her?”
    “There’s nothing much you can do, as a matter of fact. Talk with her. Try to make her come home, or at least get in touch with Mama and Papa. Reassurance is what they need more than anything else right now. Make sure the girl’s all right, not in any trouble or anything, and report to me. I’ll pass the information along.”
    “What if she’s not all right? What if she is in trouble?”
    “We’ll hope she’s not. If she is, you stay out of it. Let me have the grim details, and I’ll put Papa on the job.”
    “I’ll need a complete description. A photograph would be better.”
    “I have one. I’ll