his hand extended. We shook hands and he waved me to a chair.
'A drink?A cup of coffee?I'm drinking milk myself because of this damned ulcer. I picked up a touch of stomach flu and it always aggravates the ulcer. But what will you have, Scudder?'
'Coffee, if it's no trouble.Black.'
Hardesty repeated the order to the maid as if she couldn't have been expected to follow our conversation. She returned almost immediately with a mirrored tray holding a silver pot of coffee, a bone-china cup and saucer, a silver cream and sugar set, and a spoon. I poured out a cup of coffee and took a sip.
'So you knew Portia,' Hardesty said. He drank some milk, put the glass down. He was tall and thin, his hair graying magnificently at his temples, his summertime tan not entirely faded yet. I'd been able to picture what a striking coupleBroadfield and Portia must have made. She would have looked good on Knox Hardesty's arm, too.
'I didn't know her terribly well,' I said. 'But I knew her, yes.'
'Yes.Hmmm. I don't believe I asked you your profession, Scudder.'
'I'm a private detective.'
'Oh, very interesting.Very interesting.Is that coffee all right, incidentally?'
'It's the best I've ever tasted.'
He allowed himself a smile. 'My wife's the coffee fanatic. I was never that much of an enthusiast, and with the ulcer I tend to stick to milk. I could find out the brand for you if you're interested.'
'I live in a hotel, Mr. Hardesty. When I want coffee I go around the corner for it. But thank you.'
'Well, you can always drop in here for a decent cup of the stuff, can't you?' He gave me a nice rich smile. Knox Hardesty didn't live on his salary as United States Attorney for the Southern District of New York. That wouldn't cover his rent. But that didn't mean he walked around with his hand out.
Grandfather Hardesty had owned Hardesty Iron and Steel before U.S. Steel bought him up, and Grandfather Knox had followed a long line of New EnglandKnoxes in shipping. Knox Hardesty could spend money with both hands and still never have to worry where his next glass of milk was coming from.
He said, 'A private detective, and you were acquainted with Portia.
You could be very useful to me, Mr. Scudder.'
'I was hoping things might work the other way around.'
'I beg your pardon?' His face changed and his back stiffened and he looked as though he had just smelled something extremely unpleasant. I guess my line had sounded like the overture of a blackmail pitch.
'I already have a client,' I said. 'I came to you to find something out, not to give information away. Or even to sell it, as far as that goes.
And I'm not a blackmailer, sir. I wouldn't want to give that impression.'
'You have a client?'
I nodded. I was just as glad I'd given the impression I did, although it had been unintentional on my part. His reaction had been unequivocal enough. If I was a blackmailer he wanted no part of me. And that generally means the person in question doesn't have reason to fear being blackmailed. Whatever his relationship with Portia, it wasn't something he would have trouble living down.
'I'm representing JeromeBroadfield .'
'The man who killed her.'
'The police think so, Mr. Hardesty. Then again, you'd expect them to think so, wouldn't you?'
'Good point. I'd been given to understand he was virtually caught in the act. That's not the case?' I shook my head.'Interesting. And you'd like to find out- '
'I'd like to find out who killed Miss Carr and framed my client.'
He nodded. 'But I don't see how I can help you toward that end, Mr. Scudder.'
I'd been promoted- from Scudder to Mr. Scudder. I said, 'How did you happen to know Portia Carr?'
'One has to know a wide variety of people in my line of work. The most fruitful contacts are not necessarily those persons with whom one would prefer to associate. I'm sure that has been your own experience as well, hasn't it? One sort of investigative work is rather like another, I suspect.' He smiled graciously; I was supposed to be complimented that he saw his work as being similar to mine.
'I heard of Miss Carr before I met her,' he went on. 'The better sort of prostitutes can be very useful to our office. I was informed that Miss Carr was quite expensive and that her client list was primarily interested in, oh, less orthodox forms of sex.'
'I understand she specialized in masochists.'
'Quite.' He made a face; he'd have preferred it if I'd been less specific. 'English, you know. That's the English vice, so-called, and an American masochist would find an English mistress especially desirable.
Or so Miss Carr informed me. Did you know that native-bornprostitutesoftimes affect English or German accents for the benefit of their masochistic clients? Miss Carr assured meit's common practice. German accents for the Jewish clients in particular, which I find fascinating.'
Ifreshened my cup of coffee.
'The fact that Miss Carr's accent was quite authentic increased my interest in her. She was vulnerable, you see.'
'Because she could be deported.'
