“Is it urgent?” he said. “Aren?t we going to see you tomorrow night?”
“Tomorrow night?”
“At Babs? cocktail party,” he said with a lame grin. “You better not forget—she?s touting you as the
guest of honour. She?s got a short temper and a long memory.”
“I?ll be there,” I said. “But I need a little time alone with you. It?s nothing unpleasant. information
mostly.”
He dug a small notebook from an inside pocket and leafed through it. “How about Friday around
noon?” he asked. “I?ll take the phone off the hook and send out for sandwiches.”
“Sounds like a winner,” I said. “I?ll buy.”
“Not in my town you won?t,” he said. His smile had grown more relaxed and genuine. “It?s
Warehouse. Three, overlooking the Quadrangle. We have the whole top floor.”
“I?m afraid I won?t be seeing you tomorrow evening,” Seaborn said. “I have the bank examiners in
town. You know how that can be.”
“By the way,” I said to Seaborn. “I believe you have a customer I know from Cincinnati. His name?s
Cohen.”
“Cohen?” he echoed, raising his eyebrows much too high. He looked like he had lust swallowed
something much too big for his throat, which was bobbing up and down like a fishing cork.
“Yes. Lou Cohen?”
“Oh, yes, I believe I?ve seen him in the bank from time to time.”
“Give him my regards the next time you see him,” I said.
I could almost hear their sighs of relief when I left the table. And I knew enough about human nature
to know that Charles Seaborn had more than a casual acquaintance with Cohen.
Perhaps Cowboy Lewis would confirm my suspicions. In the meantime, I couldn?t help wondering
why tiny beads of sweat had been twinkling from Seaborn?s upper lip. I usually don?t make people
that nervous.
When I got back to the table, Dutch still looked nervous.
“What?d you say to them?” he asked. “Seaborn looked like he swallowed a lemon.”
“1 just asked Seaborn if he knew my old friend Lou Cohen,” I said with a smile.
“Verdammt,” Dutch said, shaking his head. “You sure do play hard cheese.”
“Is there any other way to play?” I replied.
On the way out Dutch was paged. He spoke into the lobby phone for a few moments and hung up.
“That was Zapata,” he said. “Salvatore?s screaming bloody murder, but he?s giving up O?Brian. He
thinks you?re nuts.”
