I didn't know him that well but we knew each other.He responded that he would like to help me out but that he didn't have changing rooms. Not many of ...is customers were women.I smiled and said, "That's no problem."Then I ordered Inga to hand me her dress.She must have known that it was coming. She looked very nervous, but she didn't even hesitate. She reached down and pulled her little jersey dress up and over her head and handed it to me. I had to guess at her size. She looked like a small to. On the other hand, it made as much sense as everything else here. The shirt didn't even have buttons all the way up; only about two-thirds of the way. It tightly hugged my waist, torso and chest, until it opened at the top to display a lot more of my chest than I'd ever unbutton a normal shirt to. It had very short, and tight sleeves, only about two inches long. It barely had a collar at all, even more abbreviated than the sleeves. I would have been embarrassed about displaying so much chest,. Now you can turn around.’ I turned around and saw lace. She had taken her pullover off and was showing me her lace covered chest. Barely covered. I could see her nipples and areola through the lace. I could see that the bra was more for sex appeal than support. She stepped closer and reached into my shirt pocket. Her fingers came back with her credit card. ‘I keep it inside the right cup. Would you put it back, kind Sir?’ I watched my hand reach for the card and just as it touched the card she. No, that's not true I knew exactly what would change his mind. The DNA profile of Mary Anne's "attacker" was in an FBI data bank in Washington. Even someone as dumbas old Bobbie must have realized that it was a sword hanging over hishead. I felt sure that I could convince him that the only way out wasa preemptive strike, to get his version out before he was an accusedrapist. Bobbie had really gone to ground, it took my detective several months to find him but he finally tracked Bobbie down to.