father abandoned them. Let that go. But he's big enough and strong enough to have done-the damage that was done. If. And I may take a jaundiced view of the psychological doubletalk, the fact remains that sex can play some funny tricks with young adolescents sometimes. All right. These people are now living in the neighborhood where Elena Ramirez was killed. I don't say they had anything to do with either death, or even the theft. I'd just like to know a little more about them.'
Morgan shrugged and flipped open his notebook. 'You're welcome to what I've got. Mrs. Lindstrom applied for county relief six weeks ago, and was interviewed by a case worker from that agency. She says her husband deserted her and the boy last August, she has no idea where he is now, hasn't heard from him since. She took a job between then and a week or so before she applied, says she can't go on working on account of her health. She was referred to a clinic, and there's a medical report here-various troubles adding up to slight malnutrition and a general run-down condition. Approved for county relief, and the case shoved on to us to see if we can find Lindstrom, make him contribute support. He's a carpenter, good record, age forty-four, description-and so on and so on-they both came from a place called Fayetteville in Minnesota, so she said,' and he glanced at Gunn.
'Yes,' said Gunn thoughtfully, 'and what does that mean, either? Sometimes these husbands head for home and mother, we usually query the home town first-and I have here a reply from the vital records office in Fayetteville saying that no such family has ever resided there.'
'You don't tell me,' said Mendoza.
'This I'll tell you,' said Morgan, 'because we run into it a lot. Some of these women are ashamed to have the folks at home know about it, and they don't realize we're going to check on it-the same with former addresses here, and she gave me a false one on that too, sure. It doesn't necessarily mean-'
'No. But it's another little something. What have you got on the boy?'
'Nothing, why should I have? He exists, that's all we have to know. He's normal, thirteen years old, name Martin Eric Lindstrom, attends seventh grade at John C. Calhoun Junior High.'
Morgan shut the book.
'That's all? I'd like to know more about the boy. We'll have a look round. No trace of the father yet?'
'It's early, we've only been on this a few days. Routine inquiries out to every place in the area hiring carpenters-to vital records and so on in other counties-and so on.'
'Yes. Will you let me have a copy of all that you've got, please-to my office. We'll keep an eye on them, see what shows up, if anything. Thanks very much.'
When the two men from Homicide had gone, Gunn said, 'Get one of the girls to type up that report, send it over by hand.'
'O.K.,' said Morgan. 'I suppose-' He was half-turned to the door, not looking at Gunn. 'I suppose that means he'll have men watching that apartment.'
'It's one of the basic moves. What's the matter, Dick?'
'Nothing,' said Morgan violently. 'Nothing at all. Oh, hell, it's just that- I guess Mendoza always rubs me the wrong way, that's all. Always so damned sure of himself-and I think he's way off the beam here.'
'It doesn't look like much of anything,' agreed Gunn. 'But on the other hand, well, you never can be sure until you check.'
TEN
'I have the feeling,' said Mendoza-discreetly in Spanish, for the waiter who had seated them was still within earshot-'that I'd better apologize for the meal we're about to have.'
'But why? Everything looks horribly impressive. Including the prices. In fact, after that automatic glance at the right-hand column,' said Alison, putting down the immense menu card, 'I have the feeting I've been in the wrong business all my life.'
'I never can remember quite how it goes, about fooling some of the people, etcetera.' Mendoza glanced thoughtfully around the main dining room of the Maison du Chat, which was mostly magenta, underlighted, and decorated with would-be funny murals of lascivious felines. 'It's curious how many people are ready to believe that the highest prices guarantee the best value.' The waiter came back and insinuated under their noses liquor lists only slightly smaller than the menus. 'What would you like to drink?'
'Sherry,' said Alison faintly, her eyes wandering down the right column.
'And straight rye,' he said to the waiter, who looked shaken and took back the cards with a disappointed murmur.
'Not in character. I'd expected to find you something of a gourmet.'
'My God, I thought I'd made a better impression. The less one thinks about one's stomach, the less trouble it's apt to cause. And I know just enough about wine to call your attention to those anonymous offerings you just looked at-port, muscatel, tokay, and so on. At three dollars the half-bottle, and they'll be the domestic product available at the nearest supermarket for what?-about one-eighty-nine the gallon.'
'They're not losing money on the imported ones either.'
'About a one hundred percent markup.' He looked around again casually, focused on something past her shoulder, and began to smile slowly to himself. 'Now isn't that interesting…'
'I couldn't agree more-I said I've always found the subject fascinating. You're pleased about something, and it can't be the prices.'
'I just noticed an old friend. And what's more, he noticed me. He isn't nearly so pleased about it.' The waiter, doing his best with pseudo-Gallic murmurs and deft gestures with paper mats to invest these plebeian potions with glamour, served them. Mendoza picked up his rye and sniffed it cautiously. '?Salud y pesetas! And if this costs them more than a dollar a fifth wholesale, they're being cheated, which I doubt.'
'Why did we come here? I gather it's new to you too.'
'We came because I'm interested in this place, not as a restaurant-professionally. Of course I also wanted to impress you.'
'You have.'
'And I'm gratified to find you see through these spurious trappings of the merely expensive. Next time I'll take you to a hamburger stand.'
'You will not. I like an excuse to get really dressed up occasionally.' She had, after all, compromised with his dictation: pearls, and a very modest decollete, but for the rest an oyster-silk sheath.
'I complimented you once, don't fish for more so early,' said Mendoza placidly. 'And what I expected to get by coming-besides rooked out of a little money-I don't know. Mr. Torres-Domingo is an unexpected bonus. You see, the uncle of your late pupil went out of his way to visit this place last night, which seemed a little odd.'
'Oh! I should think so. Who is the other gentleman you mentioned?'
'I wouldn't say gentleman. He just barely avoided an indictment for homicide about eighteen months ago-he was then the proprietor of a bar on Third Avenue. Another gentleman who later turned out to have been a small- time wholesaler of heroin got himself shot full of holes by a third gentleman who subsequently said that Mr.-the first gentleman-had offered him a substantial sum of money to do the job. We didn't doubt his word-after what showed-but unfortunately there just wasn't enough evidence. The first gentleman retired modestly across the Mexican border, though he is an American citizen, and it's interesting to know he's back home. I don't want him for anything myself, but Lieutenant Patrick Callaghan will be very interested to hear that he's now the headwaiter at a fashionable restaurant.'
'I deduce that the lieutenant is on the narcotics team, or whatever you call it.'
'And as you and I are not the only people in the world who speak Spanish, we will now cease to talk shop… What are we offered? All the standard Parisian concoctions. Women living alone subsist mostly on casseroles anyway, no treat to you-I suggest the one concession to Americanism, a steak.'
'Medium well,' she agreed meekly. And when the waiter had gone, 'May I ask just one question? People make a lot of money in that-er-business you mentioned. Wholesaling you-know-what. Why should they go to all the trouble of holding down regular jobs too? I always thought of them as-as coming out at night, slinking furtively down alleys, you know-like that-not punching time clocks.'
'Oh, God!' he said. 'Now you've taken my appetite away. Well, there's a den of crafty bloodsucking robbers
