color,” he said, and coughed, “kind of glamour. Anyways, we got nothing to show where he’s been, only he phones Macaulay last Friday and says to meet him at two o’clock in the Plaza lobby Macaulay wasn’t in, so he just left the message.”
“Macaulay was here,” I said, “for lunch.”
“He told me. Well, Macaulay don’t get to the Plaza till nearly three and he don’t find any Wynant there and Wynant ain’t registered there. He tries describing him, with and without a beard, but nobody at the Plaza remembers seeing him. He phones his office, but Wynant ain’t called up again. And then he phones Julia Wolf and she tells him she don’t even know Wynant’s in town, which he figures is a lie, because he had just give her five thousand dollars for Wynant yesterday and figures Wynant’s come for it, but he just says all right and hangs up and goes on about his business.”
“His business such as what?” I asked.
Guild stopped chewing the piece of roll he had just bitten off. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to know, at that. I’ll find out. There didn’t seem to be anything pointing at him, so we didn’t bother with that, but it don’t ever hurt any to know who’s got an alibi and who ain’t.”
I shook my head no at the question he had decided not to ask.“I don’t see anything pointing at him, except that he’s Wynant’s lawyer and probably knows more than he’s telling.”
“Sure. I understand. Well, that’s what people have lawyers for, I guess. Now about the girl: maybe Julia Wolf wasn’t her real name at all. We ain’t been able to find out for sure yet, but we have found out she wasn’t the kind of dame you’d expect him to be trusting to handle all that dough—I mean if he knew about her.”
“Had a record?”
He wagged his head up and down. “This is elegant stew. A couple of years before she went to work for him she did six months on a badger-game charge out West, in Cleveland, under the name of Rhoda Stewart.”
“You suppose Wynant knew that?”
“Search me. Don’t look like he’d turn her loose with that dough if he did, but you can’t tell. They tell me he was kind of nuts about her, and you know how guys can go. She was running around off and on with this Shep Morelli and his boys too.”
“Have you really got anything on him?” I asked.
“Not on this,” he said regretfully, “but we wanted him for a couple of other things.” He drew his sandy brows together a little. “I wish I knew what sent him here to see you. Of course these junkies are likely to do anything, but I wish I knew.”
“I told you all I knew.”
“I’m not doubting that,” he assured me. He turned to Nora. “I hope you don’t think we were too rough with him, but you see you got to—” Nora smiled and said she understood perfectly and filled his cup with coffee. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“What’s a junkie?” she asked.
“Hop-head.”
She looked at me. “Was Morelli—?”
“Primed to the ears,” I said.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she complained. “I miss everything.” She left the table to answer the telephone.
Guild asked: “You going to prosecute him for shooting you?”
“Not unless you need it.”
He shook his head. His voice was casual, though there was some curiosity in his eyes. “I guess we got enough on him for a while.”
“You were telling me about the girl.”
“Yes,” he said. “Well, we found out she’d been spending a lot of nights away from her apartment—two or three days at a stretch sometimes. Maybe that’s when she was meeting Wynant. I don’t know. We ain’t been able to knock any holes in Morelli’s story of not seeing her for three months. What do you make of that?”
“The same thing you do,” I replied. “It’s just about three months since Wynant went off. Maybe it means something, maybe not.” Nora came in and said Harrison Quinn was on the telephone. He told me he had sold some bonds I was writing off
“Macaulay was here,” I said, “for lunch.”
“He told me. Well, Macaulay don’t get to the Plaza till nearly three and he don’t find any Wynant there and Wynant ain’t registered there. He tries describing him, with and without a beard, but nobody at the Plaza remembers seeing him. He phones his office, but Wynant ain’t called up again. And then he phones Julia Wolf and she tells him she don’t even know Wynant’s in town, which he figures is a lie, because he had just give her five thousand dollars for Wynant yesterday and figures Wynant’s come for it, but he just says all right and hangs up and goes on about his business.”
“His business such as what?” I asked.
Guild stopped chewing the piece of roll he had just bitten off. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to know, at that. I’ll find out. There didn’t seem to be anything pointing at him, so we didn’t bother with that, but it don’t ever hurt any to know who’s got an alibi and who ain’t.”
I shook my head no at the question he had decided not to ask.“I don’t see anything pointing at him, except that he’s Wynant’s lawyer and probably knows more than he’s telling.”
“Sure. I understand. Well, that’s what people have lawyers for, I guess. Now about the girl: maybe Julia Wolf wasn’t her real name at all. We ain’t been able to find out for sure yet, but we have found out she wasn’t the kind of dame you’d expect him to be trusting to handle all that dough—I mean if he knew about her.”
“Had a record?”
He wagged his head up and down. “This is elegant stew. A couple of years before she went to work for him she did six months on a badger-game charge out West, in Cleveland, under the name of Rhoda Stewart.”
“You suppose Wynant knew that?”
“Search me. Don’t look like he’d turn her loose with that dough if he did, but you can’t tell. They tell me he was kind of nuts about her, and you know how guys can go. She was running around off and on with this Shep Morelli and his boys too.”
“Have you really got anything on him?” I asked.
“Not on this,” he said regretfully, “but we wanted him for a couple of other things.” He drew his sandy brows together a little. “I wish I knew what sent him here to see you. Of course these junkies are likely to do anything, but I wish I knew.”
“I told you all I knew.”
“I’m not doubting that,” he assured me. He turned to Nora. “I hope you don’t think we were too rough with him, but you see you got to—” Nora smiled and said she understood perfectly and filled his cup with coffee. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“What’s a junkie?” she asked.
“Hop-head.”
She looked at me. “Was Morelli—?”
“Primed to the ears,” I said.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she complained. “I miss everything.” She left the table to answer the telephone.
Guild asked: “You going to prosecute him for shooting you?”
“Not unless you need it.”
He shook his head. His voice was casual, though there was some curiosity in his eyes. “I guess we got enough on him for a while.”
“You were telling me about the girl.”
“Yes,” he said. “Well, we found out she’d been spending a lot of nights away from her apartment—two or three days at a stretch sometimes. Maybe that’s when she was meeting Wynant. I don’t know. We ain’t been able to knock any holes in Morelli’s story of not seeing her for three months. What do you make of that?”
“The same thing you do,” I replied. “It’s just about three months since Wynant went off. Maybe it means something, maybe not.” Nora came in and said Harrison Quinn was on the telephone. He told me he had sold some bonds I was writing off
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