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Show 31 the one who calls herself Sparkle, right?" '_ "Yes," said Fogarty. "The cute one, about nineteen." "Eighteen," said Fogarty. "What else do we know about her? If I remember correctly, that's the same name she used on the Rental Agreement." Jackson remembered right; Fogarty had already checked. The Rental Agreement had been signed in the winter, before Jackson had acquired the Newgate and before Fogarty had become Apartment Manager. "At least we should try to get hold of her real name," said Jackson, "what if she tries to skip out on us?" Fogarty hadn't thought about that. Now he thought about it, as he watched the two little girls in back argue about who should get to listen to a new tape on the recorder. They were both pulling at the earphones, pulling them apart. Soon they would break. "Jesus, it's hot," he said, backing away from the car, "I gotta get back inside." He blinked at the sun. "What I'll do is keep an eye out. I see everything that happens around here." "Right. An eye out and an ear open. See what you can find out. For two month's rent it would be worth tracking her down." "Yeah," said Fogerty, "sure," as he moved backwards across the street, trying to imagine the dogs, noses down, hot on the track, the trail, hot after the sweet flowery scent . . . of Sparkle. He went to find Malone. Malone carried the mail by day and |
