“I told you, I don’t know.” She gave a little shake of exasperation. “If he didn’t say, how could I? I wasn’t listening in.”
“Not even to his end of the conversation?”
“No. He was in his office with the door shut.”
“And you didn’t ask him questions when he told you your piece was going to get checked over?”
“Of course I did. It’s just that he didn’t answer them. He was full of the idea of letting them have their head, then springing the whole thing on the readers and making a big splash. He didn’t want to talk about the call. Mr. Stubb—”
“Jim. »
“Jim, I can see you mean well, but you don’t know Mr. Illingworth. He’s an old man—over seventy—and cranky. He was running the magazines before I was born, and he knows perfectly well that he’ll still be running them when I leave for a better job. He keeps the business under his hat.”
“They must have told him where to send your article on Madame S. Wouldn’t he have made notes? A name and address? Maybe a phone number?”
“I suppose so.”
“In a pocket notebook, or in something he’d leave there on the desk?”
Sandy pursed her lips. “Probably on his blotter. Really important things—printer’s deadlines and meetings with the distributor, things like that—he usually writes on his blotter. It’s a habit he has.”
“Any reason we couldn’t go in and have a look at it?”
“After he’s gone home, you mean? I don’t see why not. I’ve got a key. But, Jim—”
“Yeah?”
“It wouldn’t be fair for you to concentrate on that part of the story. I could do that myself. The reason I came to see you, and the reason I’m giving you a hundred dollars of my own money, is that I need you to help with the part that concerns Madame Serpentina. She’s the one they’re interested in, after all. Not Mr. Illingworth. Not me.”
“Not her either,” Stubb said. “I just told you, and if you’re going to write about this, you’d better learn to listen. It’s Ben Free. And don’t worry about me concentrating on one part of the case or another—I concentrate on all the parts. Now finish your hamburger and we’ll cash your check and take a ride over to Belmont Hospital.”
“Belmont?”
“Sure. That was my idea of the month. I told you already—these government people must have been watching Madame S.’s room at the Consort. They saw you come in, or maybe go out, and that’s how they got onto you. Swell. But somebody else was watching too. Hell, you got stopped by him while you were leaving, remember?”
“The policeman with the bandaged head!”
“That’s right. Sergeant Proudy. He was watching us, and there’s a damn good chance he saw whoever else was. This morning, when I was giving out assignments to the gang, I told Candy to go over and have a word with him, but that was just because she’d helped the old doc patch him up and he seemed to like her better than the rest of us. I wanted her to find out what he knew or thought he knew that made him think he ought to stake us out. She’s probably been and gone by now—I hope she softened him up for us.”
Calling On Belmont
“Hello,” Captain Davidson said. “Can I help you?”
The dark woman glanced at him. “No.” She wore snowflecked mink, spike-heeled boots, and a hat with a veil, old-fashioned but elegant. She was not tall, but she looked tall, only in part because of the heels.
“You’re a Gypsy,” Captain Davidson said.
She appeared not to have heard him.
“It’s the first time I’ve ever seen a Gypsy throw away the chance to take advantage of somebody who offered to help.”
“This is a wonderful world; a world far larger than you suppose.”
The captain glanced up at the dark facade of the stone building. “One of your tribe’s in Belmont?”
“Several, I understand. Have you influence at this place?”
“I hope so. One of my men’s in there.”
“We have common cause, then.”
“Somewhat.”
“I am Madame Serpentina,” the witch said. She held out a black-gloved hand.
“You mean that’s what I can call you.”
“Of course. You are a very intelligent policeman, and so you know that. And what may I call you?”
He told her. “I’ve got the Thirteenth Precinct now, but I used to be on Bunco. I knew a Gypsy once who took two old ladies for forty thousand dollars.”
“How terrible that there should be such evil among our people. How thankful you must be that there is none among your own. Captain Davidson. Shall we go inside?”
As they started up the steps, a cab swung out of the traffic and braked at the curb. A plump young woman
