`He's fanatically loyal to Ralph,' she said with emphasis.
`Let me ask you a hypothetical question, without prejudice, as they say in court. If your husband disinherited Tom, would Dick be a likely heir?'
`That's excessively hypothetical, isn't it?'
`But the answer might have practical consequences. What's your answer?'
`Dick might be left something. He probably will be in any case. But please don't imagine that poor stupid Dick, with his curly hair and his muscles, is capable of plotting-'
`I wasn't suggesting that.'
`And you mustn't embarrass Dick. He's come through nobly in this crisis. Both of us have leaned on him.'
`I know. I'll leave him alone.'
I got up to go. `Thank you for being frank with me.'
`There's not much point in pretending at this late date. If there's anything else you need to know-'
`There is one thing that might help. If you could give me the name of the agency through which you adopted Tom?'
`It wasn't done through an agency. It was handled privately.'
`Through a lawyer, or a doctor?'
`A doctor,' she said. `I don't recall his name, but he delivered Tom at Cedars of Lebanon. We paid the expenses, you understand, as part of the bargain that we made with the mother.'
`Who was she?'
`Some poor woman who'd got herself in trouble. I didn't actually meet her, nor did I want to. I wanted to feel that Tom was my own son.'
`I understand.'
`Does it matter who his parents were? I mean, in the current situation?'
`It does if he's wandering around Los Angeles looking for them. Which I have reason to think he may be doing. You should have a record somewhere of that doctor's name.'
`My husband could tell you.'
`But he isn't available.'
`It may be in his desk in the library.'
I followed her to the library and while she rummaged in the desk I looked at the pictures on the wall again. The group photo taken on the flight deck must have been Hillman's squadron. I looked closely at their faces, wondering which of the young men had died at Midway.
Next I studied the yachting picture of Dick Leandro. His handsome, healthy, empty face told me nothing. Perhaps it would have meaning for somebody else. I took it off the wall and slipped it into the side pocket of my jacket.
Elaine Hillman didn't notice. She had found the name she was looking for.
'Elijah Weintraub,' she said, `was the doctor's name.'
22
I PHONED DR Weintraub long-distance. He confirmed the fact that he had arranged for Thomas Hillman's adoption, but he refused to discuss it over the phone. I made an appointment to see him in his office that afternoon.
Before I drove back to Los Angeles I checked in with Lieutenant Bastian. He'd been working on the case for nearly three days, and the experience hadn't improved his disposition. The scarlike lines in his face seemed to have deepened. His voice was hoarse and harsh, made harsher by irony: `It's nice of you to drop by every few days.'
`I'm working for Ralph Hillman now.'
`I know that, and it gives you certain advantages. Which you seize. But you and I are working on the same case, and we're supposed to be cooperating. That means periodic exchanges of information.'
`Why do you think I'm here?'
His eyes flared down. `Fine. What have you found out about the Hillman boy?'
I told Bastian nearly all of it, enough to satisfy both him and my conscience. I left out the adoption and Dr Weintraub, and the possibility that Tom might turn up at the Santa Monica bus station at nine that night. About his other movements, and the fact that he had probably been a voluntary captive in the Barcelona Hotel, I was quite frank.
`It's too bad Otto Sipe had to die,' Bastian grumbled. `He could have cleared up a lot of things.'
I agreed.
`Exactly what happened to Sipe? You were a witness.'
`He attacked Ben Daly with a spade. Daly was holding my gun while I examined Harley's body. The gun went off.'
Bastian made a disgusted noise with his lips. `What do you know about Daly?'
