The apartment is called a single. It contains a Murphy bed, a chest of drawers, an overstuffed chair, a sofa, a coffee table, a seventeen-inch television set, a bookcase partially filled with the volumes A through F of an encyclopedia from the supermarket, assorted paperback books, and a radio that doesn't work. In the ceiling is a fixture with two twenty-five-watt bulbs. A short hallway leads to the bathroom and the kitchen. Julia Fenway stood outside her apartment, fumbling in her bag for her