FOLLOW THE LEADER - Chapter 50

 Chapter 50



I got off the streetcar and headed back into St. Francis Woods, determined to push ahead with my investigation. The feds had thrown a few crumbs my way, which was more than I expected. Now it was on to Irv Feingold, Amy’s father.  My phone call caught him just as he was leaving his office, and he had disconnected before I could introduce myself. 

I rang the doorbell and Amy answered it.

“Yes?” she asked haughtily, as if she was speaking to a salesman.

I handed her my card.

“I know who you are.”

“I’d like to speak with your father, if he’s around. I called him earlier but he was just leaving the office and—”

“He might not want to talk to you.

“I’m investigating the murder of your best friend. I’m making good progress, but…” Good was pushing it. Maybe if he knows that…”

“Maybe. But after it happened, two cops came over and interviewed him. He was a suspect.”

“Based on…?”

“Nothing. They insisted that he come down to the station. Tried to get him to admit that he was having an affair with Katherine.”

“Jesus.”

“So don’t be pissed if he doesn’t want to talk.”
“I could still use his help. Yours as well. You were there. You must heard something or seen something.”

“I’ll get him.”

She left me standing there.

Irving Feingold appeared, his collar loosened, still wearing a tie. He was a well-known jewelry merchant, so of course he had to show off his diamond tiepin.

“We talked to the police just after it happened,” he said. “I have nothing more to add. Neither does Amy.”

“We’ve uncovered some new information, sir.”

“Then use it.”

He slammed the door.

I sighed, then turned and walked away.

Terry located Dorothy Latham’s address on Chenery. It was an ideal neighborhood. One block from the Glen Park BART. She could walk down the sidewalk and turn left, which would take her past a hardware store and an open-air market with bouquets of flowers and fresh fruit. There was a bank on the next corner, just across the street from the station. 

The house, itself, was two-story white stucco. An unattached garage sat at the end of a driveway, well back of the house. Did Doris Latham drive?

Jason Powers could be holed up inside. Or not. We had to find out.


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