"Of course," he said hastily, "I understand. I didn't expect to sweep you off your feet or anything like that. But you will think about it, won't you?"

"Oh sweetheart, of course I will."

"Well…" he said, giggling nervously, "just to keep reminding you, I bought you this…"

He fumbled in the side pocket of his jacket, brought out a little velvet-covered ring box. He opened it.

"World's smallest diamond," he said, laughing. "But it's pretty, isn't it, Zoe? Isn't it pretty?"

"It's beautiful," she said, looking down at the twinkling stone set in a silver band. "Just beautiful."

"Try it on," he urged. "I didn't know your size, so it may be too tight or too large. But the man said it can be adjusted or even exchanged for a different size."

She slipped the ring onto her bony finger. It hung loosely.

"Too large," she said regretfully. She took off the ring and placed it carefully back into the box.

"It can be fixed," he assured her. "Zoe, your fingers are so thin. And what's this brown stain here?"

"I burned myself," she said swiftly. "On a hot pan. It'll clear up."

"Better see about it. Does it hurt?"

"Oh no. It's nothing. It'll go away."

She tried to return the ring box to him, but he wouldn't take it.

"You keep it, dear," he said. "Put it someplace where you'll see it every day and think about what I asked you. Will you do that, Zoe?"

"I don't need the ring to remind me," she said, smiling. "Oh, Ernie, it was so kind of you. And the ring is lovely. It truly is."

"You like it? Really?"

"It's the most beautiful ring in the world, and you're the most beautiful man."

"Say Yes, darling. Think it over, remember how much I love you, and say Yes."

That night, alone in her apartment, Zoe Kohler put the ring on her finger again, making a fist so it wouldn't slip off. Staring down at that shining circlet, she became aware of happiness as a conscious choice, hers for the taking.

She would call Dr. Stark and agree to enter a hospital. She would do whatever was necessary, endure any mortification to regain her health. She would throw out all her unnecessary pills and capsules. She would stop drinking, eat only good, nutritious food.

She would fill out, and her skin would become smooth and pure. She would make her body beautiful, slender and willowy.

Her breath would be sweet and her monthly cramps would vanish as she grew content.

She would end her adventures because there would no longer be a need for them. The police would grow tired of the search, and the Hotel Ripper would fade from the headlines. In a few weeks or months the whole thing would be forgotten.

She would marry Ernest Mittle. Yes, and send an announcement to her ex-husband! Ernie would move in with her because her apartment was larger. She would keep her job at the Hotel Granger until Ernie was launched on a successful career in computers.

They would take turns cooking, and hurry home each night just to be together and talk to each other. They would go on wonderful vacations together, walk deserted beaches and swim in an endless sea.

They would make love gently, tenderly, and find bliss. Then they would sleep in each other's arms and wake to make love again, with smiles. They would find joy in each other's body, in their shared passion. They would not do anything ugly.

Their closeness would keep the brutal city at bay, would defend against the world's cruelty. They would be the world, a world of two, and nothing would daunt or defeat them.

Then they would have a child. Perhaps two. They would create a family of their own. With their clean, bright children, they would defy the darkness.

She replaced the ring in its box and hid it far back in the bureau drawer, next to the why not? bracelet. She went to sleep smiling, still living her dream.

It all seemed possible.

July 15-18; Tuesday to Friday…

Detective Daniel ("Dapper Dan") Bentley was given responsibility for the physical surveillance of Zoe Kohler. He used three crews, each on duty for eight hours. Each team consisted of two male and one female police officers.

Most of their time was spent in an unmarked police vehicle parked outside the subject's apartment house on East 39th Street or the Hotel Granger on Madison Avenue. The car was changed every day in an effort to prevent easy recognition by the suspect.

When Zoe Kohler walked to work, went to lunch, or just went shopping or on an innocent errand, one of the surveillance team tailed her on foot, keeping in touch with the stakeout car by walkie-talkie.

In addition to this close physical watch, a court order for a wiretap was obtained. With the cooperation of the owner of Zoe's apartment house, a tap and tape recorder were installed in the basement, hooked up to her telephone terminal. Two-man crews were on duty around the clock.

Gradually, a description of the subject and a time-habit pattern were assembled in the command post at Midtown Precinct North. The existence of Ernest Mittle and Madeline Kurnitz was established by phone call traces, and investigation begun of their relationship with the suspect.

Also, by means of a collect call made by the subject, the names and address of her parents were obtained. Following Zoe when she visited her bank resulted in an examination of her bank account and credit rating.

Slowly, the profile of the subject was filled in, with a complete physical description, personal history, her present job, employment record, friends, habits, etc. None of this, of course, added to or subtracted from her validity as a suspect, but it did give substance to the woman. In Midtown North, they began to speak familiarly of her as "Zoe." A friend of the family.

Photographs were taken from the surveillance car by a police photographer using a telephoto lens. Blowups of the best pictures were flown to the Coast by a New York detective and shown to Anne Rogovich, the former cocktail waitress. The result was negative; she could not identify the suspect as the woman she had seen with the late Jerome Ashley.

The same disappointment resulted when the photos were shown to Anthony Pizzi, the waiter at the Tribunal Motor Inn. So Mr. Pizzi was installed in the surveillance car and given an actual look at the subject. He still could not provide positive identification.

But not all inquiries were fruitless…

A long, involved discussion was held on how best to determine the disposition of tear gas purchased by Everett Pinckney, security chief of the Hotel Granger.

"The problem here," Delaney said, "is that if he gave her a can of the stuff, or she pinched it, then questions about it are sure to spook her. If she still has the can-maybe it's half-full-she's sure to dump it. And if she's already gotten rid of it, the questions will give her a chance to frame a story."

"Maybe we can tell this Pinckney to keep his trap shut," Sergeant Boone said.

"You can tell him," the Chief said, "but don't take it to the bank." He thought a moment, then: "Look, let's handle this in a conventional way. Just go in, verify the purchase with Pinckney, and say we'll be back in a week or so for a physical count of the containers he bought. Treat it very casually. If he mentions it to her, it may scare her into doing something foolish. Johnson, can you handle it?"

"I'll do it personally," the detective said. "No sweat. I want to get a look at the lady anyway."

So Detective Aaron Johnson visited Security Chief Everett Pinckney at the Hotel Granger. His cover story was that he was investigating a wholesale burglary of Chemical Mace and was tracing the serial numbers of every can sold in the New York area.

"The good news," he reported later, "is that this Pinckney admits the purchase, and says he handed out the spray dispensers to his assistants, including Zoe. He's got the grenades right there in his office and says he'll collect the spray cans from the others for examination. The bad news is that I didn't get to see her; she was out to lunch or some such."