Anthony's heart jumped with hope. 'Give!'
'A report from the police in Georgetown. A housewife comes back from the store to find that her home has been broken into and her shower has been used. The intruder has disappeared, leaving behind a suitcase and a pile of filthy old clothes.'
Anthony was electrified. 'At last - a break!' he said. 'Give me the address.'
You think this is our guy?'
'I'm sure of it! He's fed up with looking like a bum, so he's broken into an empty house, showered, shaved, and put on some decent clothes. That's characteristic, he would hate to be badly dressed.'
Pete looked thoughtful. 'You know him pretty well, I guess.'
Anthony realized he had slipped again. 'No, I don't,' he snapped. 'I read his file.'
'Sorry,' Pete said. After a moment he went on: T wonder why he left stuff behind?'
'My guess is, the housewife came home before he was quite finished.'
'What about the Cuba meeting?'
Anthony stopped, a passing secretary. 'Please call the conference room in P Building and tell Mr. Hobart that I was taken ill with stomach pains and Mr. Maxell had to drive me home.'
'Stomach pains,' she said, deadpan.
'Right,' he said, walking away. Over his shoulder he called: 'Unless you can think of something better.'
He left the building with Pete following, and they jumped into his old yellow Cadillac. 'This may need delicate handling,' he said to Pete as he headed for Georgetown. 'The good news is that Luke has left us some clues. Our problem is that we don't have a hundred men to chase up leads. So, my plan is to get the Washington Police Department working for us.'
'Good luck,' Pete said skeptically. 'What should I do?' .
'Be nice to the cops, and leave the talking to me.'
'I believe I can handle that.'
Anthony drove fast and quickly found the address in the police report. It was a small one Family home on a quiet street. A police cruiser was parked outside.
Before going into the house, Anthony studied the opposite side of the street, scrutinizing the houses. After a moment he spotted what he was looking for: a face in an upstairs window, watching him. It was an elderly woman, with white hair. She did not step back from the window when she caught his eye, but returned his stare with unabashed curiosity. She was just what he needed, a neighbourhood busybody. He smiled and gave her a salute, and she inclined her head in acknowledgement He turned away and approached the house that had been broken into. He could see scratches and a little splintering on the door jamb where the lock had been forced; a neat, professional job with no unnecessary damage, he thought That fitted Luke.
The door was opened by an attractive young woman who was expecting a baby - pretty soon, he guessed. She took Anthony and Pete into her living room where two men were sitting on the couch, drinking coffee and smoking. One was a uniformed patrolman. The other, a young man in a cheap sharkskin suit, was probably a detective. In front of them was a splayed-leg coffee table with a red Formica top. An open suitcase was on the table.
Anthony introduced himself. He showed his identification to the cops. He did not want Mrs. Bonetti - and all her friends and neighbours - to know that the CIA was interested in the case, so he said: 'We're colleagues of these police officers.'
The detective was Lewis Hite. You know something about this?' he said guardedly.
'I think we may have some information that will help you. But first, I need to know what you've got'
Hite spread his hands in a gesture of bafflement 'We got a suitcase belongs to a guy named Rowley Anstruther, Junior, from New York. He breaks into Mrs. Bonetti's house, takes a shower, and goes away, leaving his suitcase behind. Go figure!'
Anthony studied the case. It was a good-quality tan leather, bag, less than half full. He looked through the contents. There were clean shirts and underwear, but no shoes, pants or jackets.
'Looks like Mr. Anstruther arrived in Washington from New York today,' he said.
Hite nodded, but Mrs. Bonetti said admiringly: 'How do you know that?'
Anthony smiled. 'Detective Hite will tell you.' He did not want to offend Hite by stealing his limelight 'The bag contains clean underwear but no laundry,' Hite explained. 'The guy hasn't changed his clothes, so he probably hasn't yet spent a night away. That means he left home this morning.'
Anthony said: 'I believe some old clothes were also left behind.'
The patrolman, whose name was Lonnie, said: 'I got 'em.' He lifted a cardboard box from beside the couch. 'Raincoat,' he said, sorting through the contents, 'Shirt, pants, shoes.'
Anthony recognized them. They were the rags Luke had been wearing. 'I don't believe Mr. Anstruther came to this house,' Anthony said. 'I think the bag was stolen from him this morning, probably at Union Station.' He looked at the patrolman. 'Lonnie, would you call the precinct nearest the railroad station and ask if such a theft has been reported? That's if Mrs. Bonetti will permit us to use the phone.'
'Of course,' she said. 'It's in the hall.'
Anthony added: 'The theft report should fit the contents of the bag. I believe you'll find they include a suit and a pair of shoes that are not here now.' They were all staring at him in astonishment 'Please make a careful note of the description of the suit'
'Okay.' The patrolman went into the hallway.
Anthony felt good. He had managed to take command of the investigation without offending the police. Detective Hite now looked at him as if waiting for instructions. 'Mr. Anstruther must be a man of six foot one or two, about 180 pounds, athletic build, he said. 'Lewis, if you check the size of those shirts, you'll probably find they're sixteen neck, thirty-five sleeve.'
'They are already checked,' Hite said.
'I should have known you'd be ahead of me.' Anthony flattered him with a wry smile. 'We have a picture of the man we believe stole the suitcase and broke into this house.' Anthony nodded to Pete, who handed Hite a sheaf of photographs. 'We don't have a name for him,' Anthony lied. 'He's six foot one, 180 pounds, athletic build, and he may pretend to have lost his memory.'
'So what's the story?' Hite was intrigued. 'This guy wanted Anstruther's clothes, and he came here to change?'
'Something like that.'
'But why?'
Anthony looked apologetic. 'I'm sorry, I can't tell you.'
Hite was pleased. 'Classified, huh? No problem.'
Lonnie came back. 'Dead right about the theft Union Station, eleven-thirty this morning.'
Anthony nodded. He had impressed the hell out of the two cops. 'And the suit?'
'Navy blue, with a chalk stripe.'
He turned to the detective. 'So, you can put out a photo and description including the clothes he's wearing.'
You think he's still in town.'
Yes.' Anthony was not as sure as he pretended, but he could not think of any reason for Luke to leave Washington.
'I presume he's in a car.'
'Let's find out' Anthony turned to Mrs. Bonetti. 'What's the name of the white-haired lady who lives across the street, a couple of doors down?'
'Rosemary Sims.'
'She spends a lot of time looking out her window?'
'We call her Nosy Rosie.'
'Excellent.' He turned to the detective. 'Shall we have a word with her?'
'Yep.'
They crossed the street and knocked on Mrs. Sims's door. She opened it instantly - she had been waiting in the hall. 'I saw him!' she said immediately. 'He went in there looking like a bum, and came out dressed to the nines!'
