banged them down on the table — not quite hard enough to break or chip either one-and poured me some coffee, most but not all of which wound up in the cup.
“Now, Ted,” Ozimas said reprovingly, “if you keep this up I won’t take you to Big Sur this weekend.”
The kid didn’t answer, didn’t even look at him. He backed up, glaring over our heads, and stalked off again.
For a time it was silent in the nook. Ozimas was still thinking; he had his mouth open slightly and he kept tapping his forefinger against his front teeth. The blond woman had finished shredding the cinnamon roll and was also making use of a forefinger: wetting it and then blotting up the crumbs one by one.
I got tired of the quiet and said, “So what do you think, Mr. Ozimas? Could Kenneth have been murdered?”
“I hadn’t considered the possibility until now,” he said. “But, yes, I suppose he might have inspired someone to an act of violence. He could be… abrasive, shall we say.”
“Anyone in particular?”
“Are you suggesting I might have killed him?”
“No,” I said. Then I said, “Did you?”
He liked that; it made him laugh. “Hardly. I was not at his home that evening.”
“No, but you were there earlier that day. Around five.”
“How did-Ah. Melanie. Yes, I was there. I left at about five-thirty. I drove straight home, as I remember, and spent the evening here; I expect Ted can vouch for that, if it becomes necessary.”
“Would you mind telling me why you went to see Kenneth?”
“It was a business matter.”
“What sort of business? Foreign interests buying up American real estate?”
He had been open up to now, urbane and faintly self-mocking; now I watched him close off-like watching something soft turn hard and unpleasant. This was the real Alex Ozimas. This was a shrewd and thoroughly corrupt son of a bitch who had got to where he was right now, twenty-one stories above the rest of us mortals, by manipulation, bribery, deceit, and general villainy. I looked at him right then and knew he was capable of anything to get what he wanted, or to protect what he already had. Anything at all.
He said in a flat voice, “My business dealings with Kenneth Purcell were of a private and confidential nature. I will not discuss them with you or anyone else.”
“Does that include the federal government?”
He drank coffee instead of answering-and pulled an annoyed face because it was cold.
I said, “All right, I won’t ask about your real estate deals. My hunch is that you and Kenneth had different business that day.”
He studied me for a while; it was like being scrutinized by a rock. Then he said, “Yes?”
“A snuff box,” I said. “An early eighteen hundreds snuff box made by Hainelin, with a Napoleonic battle scene engraved on the lid. Napoleon at Toulon.”
Nothing changed in his face-and then it did, all at once. The hardness went out of it and a smile formed in the waxy brown softness that remained. I took this to mean he considered the conversation back on safe ground.
“You believe I gave this snuff box to Kenneth?” he said.
“Not gave it to him. Sold it to him. I’m sure you’re a generous man, Mr. Ozimas, but fifty thousand dollars is a hell of a lot of generosity.”
He laughed. “Yes, so it is.”
“Did you sell him the Hainelin box?”
“I see no reason not to be frank with you. Yes, I sold the box to Kenneth.”
“For how much?”
“Twenty-five thousand dollars.”
“Why so little, if it was worth fifty thousand?”
“Why not? I might have sold it to a certain other collector for its full value, but Kenneth was my good friend. And he had recently done a substantial favor for me… no, I will not tell you what that favor was. Also, I confess I paid less for the box than the twenty-five thousand Kenneth paid me.”
“Where did you get it?”
“In Manila.”
“Who did you buy it from?”
Ozimas smiled and shook his head.
“This certain other collector you mentioned,” I said. “Someone here in San Francisco?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
He hesitated, but only briefly. “Margaret Prine.”
“Oh? So you know her, then.”
“I have sold her a few items in the past. Items Kenneth already had or was not interested in owning.”
“She’s an avid collector, I’ve been told.”
“Quite avid. I am sure she would have been eager to have the Hainelin box if I had approached her with it.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.”
“So she didn’t know before the party that you had sold it to Kenneth?”
“Not unless Kenneth himself told her.”
“How long before the party did he know you had it?”
“Perhaps a week.”
“And you gave it to him that night, around five o’clock?”
“Yes.” Amusement decorated his face again. “Do you think Margaret Prine might have murdered poor Kenneth? Because she wanted the box for her own collection?”
“Stranger things have happened, Mr. Ozimas.”
“Yes, but Margaret Prine? No, no, the idea is too amusing.”
“Hilarious,” I said. “Would you like to suggest a better candidate?”
“I believe I will leave such speculation to you.”
“How about Kenneth’s widow? What’s your opinion of her?”
“A very attractive woman. Very clever. She propositioned me once, you know.”
“Did she?”
“Do you find that difficult to believe?”
“No. Should I?”
“ I don’t think so. Not that I’m irresistible, of course; it was merely that she considered seducing a man of my tastes a stimulating challenge.”
“Uh-huh. Where did this happen?”
“Here in my home. Kenneth asked her to drop off some papers while she was in the city shopping.”
“Did you take her up on the offer?”
“I was severely tempted, I admit,” Ozimas said. “But I have certain scruples; I do not make love to the husbands or wives of business associates.”
“You’re a gentleman, you are.”
Another of his laughs. He was a guy who liked to laugh; he had a terrific sense of humor for a crook and a satyr.
I asked him, “Would you say Mrs. Purcell is capable of murder?”
“Aren’t we all, given the proper circumstances?”
“Would Kenneth’s money be her proper circumstances?”
“I hardly think so. He gave her as much as she wanted while he was alive, allowed her to go and do as she pleased.”
“Does that include affairs with other men?”
“Oh yes. Kenneth had affairs, too. Theirs was an open marriage.”
I asked bluntly, “Did he have an affair with you?”
