The Innocent Woman

guy’d brought in a guitar to be repaired and was picking it up. Particularly fussy. Took it out. Played it. Kept cocking his head and listening to the tone and frowning. Saying it wasn’t exactly what it was like before it was broken.” Branstein grimaced. Shook his head. “No kidding. Thing was cracked in three places. I did a hell of a job on that instrument, if I do say so myself. But the guy was going on like it’s my fault that thing’s not good as new.”
    “And that’s when you saw this woman?” Steve prompted.
    “That’s right. I’d walked the guy to the door. Good riddance, you know. And there was no one else in the shop. Otherwise I’d have been waiting on another customer. But there was no one there, so I walked him right to the door.
    “Which is when I saw her.”
    “Who?”
    “The woman.”
    “What woman.”
    Branstein frowned. “That’s the thing. I didn’t really get a good look, you know. I was showing the guy out and I see someone go in. It’s not important. I wouldn’t even remember if you didn’t ask.”
    Steve mentally shot himself. “Right,” he said. “This woman— you saw enough to recognize she was a woman?”
    “Oh, sure,” Branstein said. “I could tell that. But I only saw her from the back.”
    “You’re saying you only had a quick glimpse of her going in the door?”
    “Right. Not well enough to recognize her at all.”
    “Recognize?” Tracy said.
    Steve shot her a look, but Branstein frowned and said, “Maybe recognize is the wrong word. Maybe I should say describe.”
    “Can you describe her?” Steve said.
    “No. Like I say, I only saw her from the back. I have the impression of short black hair. But I could be wrong.”
    “Oh?” Steve said. “And where did you get that impression?”
    “That’s the thing,” Branstein said. “I could be making it up. Like I say, I didn’t have a good look. But she reminded me of someone.” He frowned. “I think that’s it, really. The only reason I remember it at all.”
    “And what is that?” Steve said.
    “What I said. She reminded me of someone.”
    “Who?”
    “The woman who works there.”
    Steve carefully avoided looking at Tracy Garvin. “Oh? he said.
    “Yeah,” he said. “That was my first impression. But I’m probably wrong. Because I don’t think she works there anymore. At least, I haven’t seen her around for a while.”
    “I see,” Steve said. “And you’re not sure if it really was this woman?”
    “Sure?” Branstein said. “I’m not sure at all. It’s not like I saw her face.”
    “What about her clothes? Could you describe what she was wearing?”
    He shook his head. “No. How should I know it was going to be important?”
    “You couldn’t, of course,” Steve said. “Now, this woman that you saw go in—did you happen to see her go out?”
    “No.”
    “Did you see her again tonight?”
    “No, I told you. Just that one time.”
    “Did you happen to see any other woman going in or out?”
    “Not that I recall.”
    “But you did see a man?”
    “Yes, I did.”
    “When was that?”
    “That was at nine.”
    “How can you be so sure.”
    “It was closing time. I was out on the sidewalk, locking up. A man walked by and went in.”
    “Can you describe him?” Steve said, casually.
    “Sure. He was a hippie. You know. With long hair. I thought he was a customer. I mean, he looked like he should be playing a guitar, you know.”
    “Did you notice anything besides the long hair?” Steve said.
    “Not really. Like I said, I was locking up. I didn’t really notice the guy until he was going past me. Then I thought he was going to stop, but he didn’t. He kept going, went in the door.”
    “So you really only saw him from the back?”
    “Yeah, well maybe three quarters. Like I say, I expected him to turn, but he didn’t.”
    “Did you notice his clothes?”
    Branstein frowned. “Not particularly. The impression I got was nondescript hippie clothing. But the specifics?” He shrugged. “Hey, I could be just going by the hair.”
    Steve nodded. “You think you’d know this man if you saw him again?”
    “If I saw him again I might. Even though I can’t describe him, I got that impression, you know.”
    “I see,” Steve said. “What about the woman?”
    He spread his arms. “How could I possibly recognize her? I didn’t see her at all.”
    “Right,” Steve said. He stood up. “Well, thanks for your help.”
    “Well,” Branstein said. “What