272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. His car, a black Alfa Romeo, waited at the end of the subdivision. "In this pit," he added, pointing to the chasm below, "your brother is buried. A woman’s shoe lay on the threadbare carpeting. But it's an odd case. You will find the proof in McClintock's safe. I came to see you on my own account. Was he pleased?” “Calmly! He said—you won’t mind my telling you?” “Not a bit. ” “There’s Miss Garvice. Her curiosity was insatiable, her dreams filled with happy speculation over what hair color her babies would inherit. Her girl, Clarice, was ten and just as pretty as a silver bell.
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