SLEEP NO MORE
239
ing
purdy factual questions about her everyday activities, which, on
the face of it, might be eccentric or annoying, but are not necessarily
incriminating."
"You can assume anything you please," countered Intelligence.
"As
for me, I can neither agree nor disagree with you."
I took this statement by my inquisitor as a guarded way of
asmring me that his interrogation was strictly routine, and was not
politically inspired. He was simply amassing
all
the facts in the
case-and who could tell at this stage which trivial fact would later
tum
out to be most important? By this time I had begun to trust
him
a little more than when he first entered my apartment. Perhaps
it was because he acted so consistently in character. Whether it was
his
personality or his job that impressed me most, I do not know. But
I am inclined to think it was mainly the fact that there was no real
distinction between the two.
During these moments when my own attitude toward Intelligence
was on trial, I was tensed forward on my chair, more like a man
watching a .contest than one engaged in it. Now I sat back and lit a
cigarette; The trained eye of Intelligence observed that I had, for the
moment at least, exhausted my doubts, and he took up the
investiga~
tion again.
"You say Miss Caruso did not see many people. Did she have
any boy friends? Did any of them seem to
be
steady?"
"No--at least I never saw any men around her place. In fact,
the rumor was that she was a lesbian."
I looked at Intelligence, wondering whether he knew what a
lesbian was-and whether he disapproved. But he moved on, as
though he had no brakes. Not that it disturbed me, for I was quickly
learning the rules of the game; and I had, in fact, already concluded
that any investigation would be lost if it permitted itself
to
linger
over anyone point.
"How did she make a living?" he asked challengingly.
"I don't know," I replied. My tone must have suggested that
I was surprised by the question, itself. For the truth
is
that I rarely
asked how a writer made a living. I somehow took for granted that
many writers do not make a living, yet manage
to
live. To be sure,
Miss
Caruso's case was complicated by the fact that it was not at
all certain,
by the test of talent and achievement, she was really a
