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Mrs. Mezlivsky, however, was extremely reluctant to admit the strangers. The sudden flashing of Hamilton's badge, and the phrase, "concerning your son," gained them sudden and rapid admittance to a squallid, rotting apartment. Ellis shivered as again memory stirred. As Mrs. Mezlivsky pulled them in to close the door tight shut, an older man, grey-haired, balding and unshaven, clad in undershirt and khakhi pants, came from another room, likely a bedroom, and stood, leaning on the door frame, to watch the detectives with great suspi- cion.

The old woman's pale, red-trimmed eyes searched Hamilton's face anxiously. "What have they been up to now?" she held her hands as if praying, fear tinting her pinched features.

Hamilton did not reply directly, but drew out several of Dunn's photographs and held them up so that both the old man and woman could see. It hit Ellis again just how beautiful the murder victim had been. So delicate and fragile, he had been overwhelmed when he had first seen "her," so much that he had made a mental vow to find and destroy the despoiler of such beauty. "She" had been almost his ideal woman. Looking now at how the red hair of the photo lit up the drab room like a fire, Ellis turned away so that no one might see his mo- ment of private grief.

The old woman nodded. "Danny," she said. "What did he do?"

Before Hamilton could say more, the old man snorted. "What else, Belle," his voice was bitter, “would that little queen be up to?" His voice became a whine. "He was no son of mine, I tell ya, the pran- cing, little ..."

Hamilton's voice cut across the speech. "I'm afraid, Mrs. Mezlivsky, that I have bad news for you." He helped Mrs. Mezlivsky sit down at the unvarnished table. "I'm afraid that your son, Danny, was murdered last night."

Mrs. Mezlivsky took the message hard, dissolving into tears, her head in her hands upon the table. The man turned back into the bedroom in disgust, slamming the door with surprisingly great strength. Hamilton motioned Ellis to look about the apartment, while Mrs. Mezlivsky's sorrow showed little sign of abating.

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