Four to Score

Hell no. Poofie guys don't think a rip in an undershirt represents a fashion statement.

He handed me a piece of white paper. 'This was tied around the brick.'

The letter was handwritten and addressed to Kuntz. The message was simple. It told him he'd been a jerk, and if he wanted his property back, he was going to have to go on a treasure hunt. It said his first clue was 'in the big one.' And then a bunch of mixed-up letters followed.

'What does this mean?' I asked him.

'If I knew I wouldn't be calling you, would I? I'd be out on a goddamn treasure hunt.' He threw his hands into the air. 'She's wacko. I should have known she was wacko from the beginning. She had a thing about spies. Was always watching those stupid Bond movies. I'd be banging her from behind, and she'd be watching James Bond on the television. Can you believe it?'

Oh yeah.

'You snoop around, right?' he said. 'You know all about being a spy? You know about cracking codes?'

'I don't know anything about being a spy,' I told him. 'And I don't know what this says.'

In fact, not only didn't I know anything about being a spy, I didn't even know much about being a bounty hunter. I was just bumbling along, trying to pay my rent, praying I'd win the lottery.

'So now what?' Kuntz asked.

I reread the note. 'What is this property she's talking about?'

He gave me a minute-long, blank look. 'Love letters,' he finally said. 'I wrote her some love letters, and I want them back. I don't want them floating around now that we're broken up. There's some embarrassing things in them.'

Eddie Kuntz didn't seem like the type to write love letters, but what do I know? He did seem like the type to trash an apartment. 'Did you go to her apartment looking for the letters?'

'Yeah, but the apartment was all locked up.'

'You didn't break in? You didn't have a key?'

'Break in? You mean like bash down the door?'

'I walked through Maxine's apartment yesterday. Someone has torn it apart.'

Again, the blank look. 'I don't know anything about it.'

'I think someone was looking for something. Could Maxine have been keeping drugs?'

He shrugged. 'Who knows with Maxine. Like I said, she's screwy. '

It was nice to know Maxine was in the area, but aside from that I couldn't get too excited about a note I couldn't read. And I definitely didn't want to hear more about Kuntz's sex life.

He draped an arm around my shoulders and leaned close. 'I'm gonna level with you, sweetie-pie. I want to get those letters back. It might even be worth something to me. You know what I mean? Just because you're working for this bail bonds guy doesn't mean you can't work for me, too, right? I'd pay good money. All you have to do is let me talk to Maxie before you turn her over to the cops.'

'Some people might consider that to be double-dipping.'

'A thousand dollars,' Kuntz said. 'That's my final offer. Take it or leave it.'

I stuck out my hand. 'Deal.'

Okay, so I can be bought. At least I don't come cheap. And besides, it was for a good cause. I didn't especially like Eddie Kuntz, but I could understand about embarrassing love letters since I'd written a few myself. They'd gone to my slimy ex-husband, and I'd consider a thousand dollars well spent if I could get them back.

'I'll need the letter,' I said to him.

He handed it over and gave me a punch in the shoulder. 'Go for it.'

*    *    *    *    *

THE NOTE said the first clue was 'in the big one.' I looked at the jumble of letters that followed, and I saw no pattern. Not such a surprise, since I was missing the puzzle chromosome and couldn't do puzzles designed for nine-year-olds. Fortunately, I lived in a building filled with seniors who sat around all day doing crosswords. And this was sort of like a crossword, right?

My first choice was Mr. Kleinschmidt in 315.

'Ho,' Mr. Kleinschmidt said when he answered the door. 'It's the fearless bounty hunter. Catch any criminals today?'

'Not yet, but I'm working on it.' I handed him the airmail message. 'Can you unscramble this?'

Mr. Kleinschmidt shook his head. 'I do crosswords. This is a jumble. You have to go ask Lorraine Klausner on the first floor. Lorraine does jumbles.'

'Everyone's a specialist today.'

'If Mickey Mouse could fly he'd be Donald Duck.'

I wasn't sure what that meant, but I thanked Mr. Kleinschmidt and I tramped two flights down and had my finger poised to ring Lorraine's bell when her door opened.

'Sol Kleinschmidt just called and told me all about the jumbled-up message,' Lorraine said. 'Come in. I have cookies set out.'