home…Where was it he came from?”
“Keokuk, Iowa.”
O’Grady repeated the name of the place. “Don’t they have damnedest names for places in this country?”
Goldman shrugged. “Kiev: that’s where my family came from.”
“Well, when I stop to think about it, my mother came from a town called Ballina. It’s what your ear is tuned to. Did he go home?”
“With that thimble in his pocket, he’ll go home. You’ll see. We knew what we were doing.”
O’Grady finished the coffee and set the container back on the keg. “He did sell one of the pictures. What happened to it?”
“Don’t worry. She came and got it before he cleared the place out.”
“You’re sure of that, Mr. Goldman?”
“I’m sure. I saw him put it in the taxi with her.”
“She looked as though she could afford it,” O’Grady said. “The good-looking blond girl?”
Goldman nodded.
“I’m glad to know that anyway. It’s something.”
A few minutes later O’Grady called Rubinoff from the nearest phone booth.
SEVEN
“H ERE NAME IS HAYES,” Rubinoff said. “I pay particular attention to names. Mrs. Hayes…I wonder if she signed the gallery book at the door.”
“She didn’t. I was watching.”
“It’s a common name, isn’t it?”
“There’d be a few of them in the phone book,” O’Grady said.
“We’d better have a look and see how many. Meanwhile, get on the phone and try to contact Abel himself.”
“It doesn’t make sense for me to do it, Rubin. It’s you that’s supposed to want the picture.”
“I’m afraid you’re right,” he said after a moment, the arrogance down a peg or two. “Actually, it’s Maude’s responsibility, but it’s too dangerous to press her in the matter. She’s not a stupid woman.”
“What could she do?”
“I don’t know, but my instinct tells me not to go that route. I suspect that she already feels she’s been taken. By Abel. Perhaps by Ginni, and I dare say not for the first time. For me to now demand that she deliver the canvas calls attention to all the circumstances…No, no, no. It’s all wrong.”
“Aye, but what’s right?”
“I simply don’t know at the moment. I assumed he would want to continue painting bad pictures and eventually find another gallery. I suppose if I were able to reach him by phone I could try flattery. But if it didn’t work—if he were to say, ‘Go ahead, Rubinoff, sue me,’ then where would we be? I’m afraid we must find the Hayes woman and persuade her that she has something which doesn’t belong to her. I’m looking in the phone book, Johnny. There are not so many Hayeses…Assuming, of course, she’s in Manhattan.”
“She must be. She travels by taxi.”
“And eliminating those in the poorer neighborhoods. After all, five hundred dollars…You’d recognize her if you saw her again, wouldn’t you?”
“Wouldn’t you, Rubin?”
“Yes, but she would also recognize me. It would seem too much of a coincidence.”
“It happens all the time,” O’Grady said.
“I want to know something about her before I confront her. Our last meeting was unfortunate.”
“Wasn’t it now?” O’Grady said with heavy sarcasm.
“Johnny, it will give you something to do: why don’t you copy a few of the addresses out of the phone book? Stake them out, one at a time. See how it goes and we’ll confer again tomorrow.”
“Holy God,” O’Grady said, looking at the receiver when he heard the click on the other end. He slammed it onto the hook.
He went home and had a bowl of soup out of a can. After that he copied the names and addresses of a dozen Hayeses out of the phone book. His first approach, midafternoon, was to a doorman in the East Sixties. “The Mrs. Hayes in your building—I wonder—does she drive a car?”
“That old lady? You must be kidding.”
“Ah, then I have the wrong address.”
One down and a legion to go. By suppertime he had eliminated two more, a real-estate agent and a black
“Keokuk, Iowa.”
O’Grady repeated the name of the place. “Don’t they have damnedest names for places in this country?”
Goldman shrugged. “Kiev: that’s where my family came from.”
“Well, when I stop to think about it, my mother came from a town called Ballina. It’s what your ear is tuned to. Did he go home?”
“With that thimble in his pocket, he’ll go home. You’ll see. We knew what we were doing.”
O’Grady finished the coffee and set the container back on the keg. “He did sell one of the pictures. What happened to it?”
“Don’t worry. She came and got it before he cleared the place out.”
“You’re sure of that, Mr. Goldman?”
“I’m sure. I saw him put it in the taxi with her.”
“She looked as though she could afford it,” O’Grady said. “The good-looking blond girl?”
Goldman nodded.
“I’m glad to know that anyway. It’s something.”
A few minutes later O’Grady called Rubinoff from the nearest phone booth.
SEVEN
“H ERE NAME IS HAYES,” Rubinoff said. “I pay particular attention to names. Mrs. Hayes…I wonder if she signed the gallery book at the door.”
“She didn’t. I was watching.”
“It’s a common name, isn’t it?”
“There’d be a few of them in the phone book,” O’Grady said.
“We’d better have a look and see how many. Meanwhile, get on the phone and try to contact Abel himself.”
“It doesn’t make sense for me to do it, Rubin. It’s you that’s supposed to want the picture.”
“I’m afraid you’re right,” he said after a moment, the arrogance down a peg or two. “Actually, it’s Maude’s responsibility, but it’s too dangerous to press her in the matter. She’s not a stupid woman.”
“What could she do?”
“I don’t know, but my instinct tells me not to go that route. I suspect that she already feels she’s been taken. By Abel. Perhaps by Ginni, and I dare say not for the first time. For me to now demand that she deliver the canvas calls attention to all the circumstances…No, no, no. It’s all wrong.”
“Aye, but what’s right?”
“I simply don’t know at the moment. I assumed he would want to continue painting bad pictures and eventually find another gallery. I suppose if I were able to reach him by phone I could try flattery. But if it didn’t work—if he were to say, ‘Go ahead, Rubinoff, sue me,’ then where would we be? I’m afraid we must find the Hayes woman and persuade her that she has something which doesn’t belong to her. I’m looking in the phone book, Johnny. There are not so many Hayeses…Assuming, of course, she’s in Manhattan.”
“She must be. She travels by taxi.”
“And eliminating those in the poorer neighborhoods. After all, five hundred dollars…You’d recognize her if you saw her again, wouldn’t you?”
“Wouldn’t you, Rubin?”
“Yes, but she would also recognize me. It would seem too much of a coincidence.”
“It happens all the time,” O’Grady said.
“I want to know something about her before I confront her. Our last meeting was unfortunate.”
“Wasn’t it now?” O’Grady said with heavy sarcasm.
“Johnny, it will give you something to do: why don’t you copy a few of the addresses out of the phone book? Stake them out, one at a time. See how it goes and we’ll confer again tomorrow.”
“Holy God,” O’Grady said, looking at the receiver when he heard the click on the other end. He slammed it onto the hook.
He went home and had a bowl of soup out of a can. After that he copied the names and addresses of a dozen Hayeses out of the phone book. His first approach, midafternoon, was to a doorman in the East Sixties. “The Mrs. Hayes in your building—I wonder—does she drive a car?”
“That old lady? You must be kidding.”
“Ah, then I have the wrong address.”
One down and a legion to go. By suppertime he had eliminated two more, a real-estate agent and a black
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