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wife, but I must have something to work on.’

      ‘She has a car, but didn’t take it with her. As for clothes?’ He made a helpless gesture. ‘I don’t know about that. She has a lot of clothes and, frankly, I wouldn’t know if she took any or not.’

      ‘She has a maid?’

      ‘Naturally.’

      ‘Good.’ I made more pothooks. ‘I’ll call and see her tomorrow. Which address? Town or Lower Manhattan?’

      ‘Manhattan. 518 Osbourne Heights, but is it necessary for you to visit my house?’

      ‘It would be simpler.’ I jotted down the address and picked up the photograph. Despite myself it was hard to keep a blank expression. Something of what I felt must have showed in my face.

      ‘I am an old man,’ the Colonel said quietly. ‘I married first rather late in life and am forty years older than my children.’ He looked at me. ‘I am a rich man also, and a rich man can sometimes indulge his whims. I wanted a young wife and, perhaps not surprisingly, my wealth outweighed her desire for a younger man.’

      ‘I see.’ I laid the photograph face down on the desk. ‘You are a cynic, Colonel.’

      ‘Not a cynic,’ he corrected. ‘An intelligent man.’ He reached into an inside pocket and produced a wallet. From it he counted out five nice, crisp, one-hundred-dollar bills. He laid them on the desk. ‘I do not wish to haggle,’ he said, and I felt an instinctive warmth towards him. ‘You mentioned thirty dollars a day plus expenses, expenses which, I imagine, would be somewhat high.’

      ‘Gas, drinks, bullets, and bribes,’ I said quickly. He didn’t seem to have heard me.

      ‘I will make my own offer. Here is five hundred dollars. Take it, and the day you find my wife I will give you ten thousand more.’ He pushed the bills towards me, their newness making little crackling noises. ‘You accept?’

      ‘I accept.’ I reached into the drawer, the one I keep my bottle and spare gun in, and took out a pad of receipts. I filled in the top form, signed it, and handed it over. Geeson took it, examined it, then tucked it into his wallet.

      ‘Is that all?’

      ‘Not quite.’ I stared down at the pothooks I’d made to refresh my memory. ‘I should like to interview your son and daughter. Would tomorrow be a convenient time? I could check with the maid at the same time.’

      ‘You forget yourself, Lantry,’ he said coldly. ‘You may interview the servants, yes. But my personal family must not be bothered by you. After all, even at best you are little more than a paid servant yourself.’

      ‘Is that what you think?’ I picked up the bills and knocked their edges flush on the scarred surface of the desk. ‘Here.’ I held them out to him. ‘Take them, return my receipt, and then get out of here.’

      ‘What!’ He was more than startled, he was shocked. ‘I don’t understand.’

      ‘You’ve picked the wrong man,’ I said tightly. ‘If you want a yes-sirring lap-dog you won’t find him here. Good night, Colonel. Don’t trip over the body.’

      He flushed, his wrinkled skin warming to the unusual flow of blood, and his hands, as he gripped his cane, showed tense the knuckles white with strain. I thought that he was going to hit me, and I didn’t care if he tried. He swallowed.

      ‘Could you recommend such a man?’

      ‘A dozen,’ I said cheerfully. ‘They will take your money and dance to your tune. They will wipe their feet and remember to say “sir,” and they’ll be very, very polite. But they won’t find your wife and, if they do find anything else, they’ll make you pay for it—but good.’

      ‘Blackmail?’

      ‘I didn’t say that.’

      ‘But you meant it.’

      I shrugged and pointed to a certificate hanging on the wall. ‘You see that? It’s a licence, issued by the county authorities, and it says that I’m duly qualified to operate as a private detective. Those licences don’t grow on trees, Colonel, and you don’t get them by sending in box tops. Your money will buy you more than me just doing as I’m told, but you just don’t own enough to buy my soul.’

      ‘Arrogance,’ he whispered, and sat staring down at the floor. He must have been desperate, because he didn’t get up and walk out. Instead he looked at me. ‘What do you want?’

      ‘If I take the case, I’ll do what has to be done, but I’ll do it in my own way. I won’t interfere with you and I won’t make myself more of a nuisance than I can help, but I want access to your home, to your servants, and to your children.’ I picked up the money. ‘Is it a deal?’

      ‘On one condition.’ He hesitated and I knew what was coming. I tried to help him out.

      ‘I cannot condone law-breaking,’ I warned. ‘I can’t cover up murder or—’

      ‘Murder!’ He was startled this time, not shocked. Startled and a little scared. ‘Who said anything about murder?’

      ‘An example.’ I dismissed the notion with a wave of my hand. The movement made me remember the cigarette I was still holding, so I dropped it. ‘However, that doesn’t mean I act as a policeman, I won’t. I won’t pry and I won’t squeal. Does that answer you?’

      ‘Perhaps.’ He stared at me from hooded eyes. ‘If you find my wife. Lantry, I want you to let me know first. First, understand?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Agreed then.’ He nodded, a sharp inclination of his head, and rose to his feet. ‘Tomorrow, then?’

      ‘Tomorrow.’

      I led the way out of the office.

      The tough chauffeur had gone. Probably he was nursing his swollen jaw and injured pride downstairs by the car. His gun had gone too, and I hoped that he wouldn’t try to kill anyone with it before he bought more bullets. I signalled for the elevator and stood, trying not to shiver, as it groaned its slow way up from the basement. Geeson stared distastefully down the dark corridor, leaning heavily on his cane, and I felt sorry for him.

      It must have been terrible for a man with all his money to have to come out on a cold, wet night. It must have been a shame for him to have hired a private eye to do what the police could have done for nothing. It must have been ever more terrible that a young and virile woman should have decided that money couldn’t compensate for old bones and thin blood.

      The elevator groaned to a stop, and the old man who was spending the last few years of his life jerked open the doors. He scowled at me—I probably woke him up—then slammed the cage as the Colonel stepped inside.

      I shrugged and stepped back into the office.

      I had five hundred dollars for a case which, on the face of it, was no case, and the prospect of ten thousand more to come. I should have felt good. I should have felt wonderful, but I didn’t, and even when I took a drink the whisky burned my throat instead of warming my stomach.

      I dropped the empty bottle and stepped across to the window. Outside it was still raining, the neon signs kept flashing and, far below, the black limousine still waited like a big black beetle against the kerb. A figure crossed to it, an old man leaning on a cane, and a second figure limped towards it and opened the rear door.

      With a white plume trailing from the exhaust, the big car slid down the rain-swept street and I watched it go, half envious of its obvious comfort and class. A shadow moved in a doorway opposite, a dim, shapeless blob with a pale splotch for a face and two more for hands. It stared up at me before hunching itself along the street, head down against the rain.

      I shivered.

      It was a hell of a night.

      CHAPTER THREE

      The

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