In one hand she carried her dinner, a paper bag from a chop suey place on the corner, and in the other, her purse where she’d tucked an envelope with a mimeographed sketch of Danny. After stepping into the vestibule, she pulled some envelopes from her mailbox and checked the bulletin board by the door to her landlady’s apartment. From behind that door, Mrs. Liebowitz’s terrier Twinkles yapped like a canine Tommy gun. Trixie winced upon spotting the only phone message left on the board. She pulled it free. BEETRIKS. FATER TELFOND AT 2. CAL BAK. IMPORTET! MRS L. Nuts. She hadn’t yet broken the news to her father that she’d left the Eagle to go to work for a tabloid. If he’d tried to reach her during the day, he would have phoned there first. The jig was up. “Twink! Pipe down.” The door to her widowed landlady’s apartment opened. The diminutive but formidable Mrs.
