'Did he, Mrs. Malek?'
'Certainly, sir. I was the only one he could ever trust. He left a large box with me years ago and I kept it for him as I said I would in case it was ever needed.'
'This party who called...'
'I told him what I'm telling you.'
'Him?'
'Well... I really couldn't say. It was neither a man's nor a woman's voice. They offered me one hundred dollars if they could inspect the box and another hundred if I were instrumental in proving their claim.'
'You take it?'
Her pale blue eyes studied me intently. 'Mr. Hammer, I am no longer a woman able to fend for herself. At my age two hundred dollars could be quite an asset. And since those records had been sitting there for years untouched, I saw no reason why I shouldn't let them have them.'
It was like having a tub of ice water dumped over you. Velda sat there, the knuckles of her hand white around the teacup.
'Who did you give it to, Mrs. Malek?'
'A delivery boy. He left me an envelope with one hundred dollars in it.'
'You know the boy?'
'Oh dear no. He was just... a boy. Spanish, I think. His English was very bad.'
'Damn,' I said.
'Another cup of tea, Mr. Hammer?'
'No, thanks.' Another cup of tea would just make me sick. I looked at Velda, and shook my head.
'The box was returned, of course,' she said suddenly.
'What!'
'With another, hundred dollars. Another boy brought it to me.'
'Look, Mrs. Malek... if we can take a look at that box and find what we're looking for, I'll make a cash grant of five hundred bucks. How does that sound to you?'
'Lovely. More tea?'
I took another cup of tea. This one didn't make me sick. But she almost did. She sat there until I finished the cup, then excused herself and disappeared a few minutes. When she came back she was carrying a large cardboard carton with the top folded down and wrapped in coarse twine.
'Here you are, Mr. Hammer.'
Velda and I opened the carton carefully, flipped open the top, and looked down at the stacked sheafs of notations that filled the entire thing. Each one was an independent sales record that listed prices, names, and descriptions and there were hundreds of them. I checked the dates and they were spread through the months I wanted.
'Are you satisfied, sir?'
I reached for my wallet and took out five bills. There were three singles left. I laid them on the table but she didn't touch them.
She said, 'One of those pieces of paper is missing, I must tell you.'
All of a sudden I had that sick feeling again. I looked at the five hundred bucks lying on the table and so did Mrs. Malek.
'How do you know?' I asked her.
'Because I counted them. Gracious, when Quincy trusted me with them I wanted to be sure they were always there. Twice a year I used to go through them to make sure the tally was identical with the original one. Then when I got them back I counted them again and one was missing.' She looked at me and nodded firmly. 'I'm positive. I counted twice.'
'That was the one we wanted, Mrs. Malek.
'I may still be of help.' She was smiling at some private secret. 'Some years back I was sick. Quite sick. I was here in bed for some months and for lack of something to do I decided to make my own record of Quincy's papers. I listed each and every piece much as he, did.'
She reached into the folds of her wrapper and brought out a thick, cheap note pad and laid it down on the table. 'You'll have to go through them all one by one and find the piece that's missing, but it's here, Mr. Hammer.'
I picked up the pad, hefted it, and stuck it in my pocket. 'One question, Mrs. Malek. Why are you going so far with us?'
'Because I don't like to be stolen from. That other party deliberately stole something of value from me. That person was dishonest. Therefore I assume you are honest. Am I wrong?'
'You aren't wrong, Mrs. Malek. You may get more out of this than you think.'
'This is sufficient for my needs, sir.'
I picked up the box and put on my hat. 'You'll get them all back this time. The police may want to hold them for a while, but eventually they'll be returned.'
'I'm sure they will. And I thank you, sir.'
I grinned at her. 'I could kiss you.'
'That would be a pleasure.' She glanced at Velda. 'Do you mind?'
'Be my guest,' Velda said.
So I kissed her.
Damn if the blush didn't make the rouge spots fade right out.
The last three bucks bought a cab ride back to the apartment and two hamburgers apiece. We dumped the contents of the box on the floor, spread them out into piles, opened the notebook, and started to go through them.
At dawn I called Pat without telling him what I had. So far he had nothing. Then we went back to the scoreboard. It could have taken a few days but we got lucky. At three in the afternoon Velda instituted a quick system of cross-checking and we found the missing item.
It was a deed made out to one Carl Sullivan for a piece of property in Ulster County, New York, and the location was accurately described. Beneath it, apparently copied from the original notation, were the initials, B.C.
Chapter Eleven
I had to borrow fifty bucks from George over at the Blue Ribbon to get on my way, but he came up with the dough and no questions. Down the street I rented a Ford and Velda got in it for the drive upstate. Instead of taking the Thruway I got on old Route 17 and stopped at Central Valley to see a real estate dealer I knew. It wasn't easy to keep the glad-handing and old-times talk to a minimum, but we managed. I gave him my property location and he pulled down a wall map and started locating it on the grid.
He found it quickly enough. Then he looked at me strangely and said, 'You own this?'
'No, but I'm interested in it.'
'Well, if you're thinking of buying it, forget it. This is in the area they located those gas wells on and several big companies have been going nuts trying to find the owner. It's practically jungle up there and they want to take exploration teams in and can't do it without permission. The taxes have been paid in advance so there's no squawk from the state and nobody can move an inch until the owner shows up.'
'Tough.'
His face got a little bit hungry. 'Mike... do you know the owner?'
'I know him.'
'Think we can swing a deal?'
'I doubt it.'
His face fell at the thought of the money he was losing. 'Well, if he wants to sell, put in a word for me, okay?'
'I'll mention it to him.'
