sounds like maybe you’re trapped.”
Kelp said, “Stan, that’s not the only way in and out. That’s the best way, for us. But the apartment’s got a front door, too, and a hall, and other elevators, and even staircases.”
Murch’s Mom said, “That part’s okay, Stanley. What I wonder about is this seventy percent.”
“That’s not natural,” Tiny said. “For a fence to take the light end of the seesaw.”
Murch’s Mom appealed to Dortmunder: “So what do you think, John? Did he mean it?”
“Well, in a way,” Dortmunder said. “I think he meant he was that mad at the guy owns the apartment. He’s still that mad at the guy, so that right now what he thinks he wants is revenge.”
“I agree,” Kelp said. “But this is before Arnie has paper money in his hand.”
“Green beats revenge,” Tiny said, “every time.”
“The thing is,” Stan said, “seventy percent of what? We give him, I dunno, a silver ashtray, he says I got a hundred bucks for it, here’s your seventy. Whadawe know what he got for it? He doesn’t deal with people where you’re gonna have invoices, receipts.”
“If Arnie ever saw a paper trail,” Dortmunder said, “he’d set fire to it.”
“So what it comes down to,” Murch’s Mom said, “we do the work, we take the risks, he gives us whatever he wants to give us.”
“Like always,” Kelp said. “It’s trust makes the world go round.”
“Tomorrow,” Tiny said, “I’ll go look at this place.” To Stan and his Mom he said, “You wanna be there?”
They looked at each other and both shook their heads. “We just drive,” Stan said. “You guys say it’s good, we’ll show up.”
“Right,” his Mom said.
“Fine.” Tiny looked at Dortmunder and Kelp. “You two are going to check on the O.J.?”
“That’s the plan,” Kelp said.
“So where do we meet after?”
“Not the O.J., I don’t think,” Dortmunder said. “Not until we know for sure what’s what.” He looked around his crowded living room. “And maybe not here.”
“It’s daytime,” Tiny said. “We’ll meet at the fountain in the park. Three o’clock?”
“Fine,” Dortmunder said, and they all heard the apartment door open. The others looked at their host, who stood and called, “May?”
“You’re home?”
May appeared in the doorway, gazed around the room, and said, “You’re all home.”
Everybody else got to their feet to say hello to May and get likewise back, and then she said, “How come you didn’t go to the O.J.?”
“It’s a long story,” Dortmunder said.
“We’ve all heard it,” Tiny said, moving toward the door. “Night, May. Three o’clock tomorrow, Dortmunder.”
Chapter 12
----
Judson Blint entered names and addresses into the computer. He printed out labels and affixed them to the small cardboard boxes of books, along with appropriate postage from the Pitney Bowes stamp machine. He stacked the labeled boxes on the tall–handled metal cart and, when it was full, wheeled it out of the office to the elevator, then on down to the postal substation on the Avalon State Bank Tower lobby level. After turning the boxes over to the United States Postal Service, he used the tagged keys J.C. Taylor had given him to open Box 88, Super Star Music Co.; Box 13, Allied Commissioners’ Courses, Inc.; Box 69, Intertherapeutic Research Service; and Box 222, Commercial Attaché, Republic of Maylohda. Back upstairs, he put all the mail on his desk except the few items for Maylohda, which appeared to come from real countries and official organizations connected with the United Nations. After a discreet knock on the door to the inner office, he then brought the Maylohda mail in and placed it on the desk in front of J.C. herself, who was usually on the phone, sounding very official and occasionally foreign. Back at his own desk, he next entered the newly hooked customers into the database and prepared a deposit of their
Kelp said, “Stan, that’s not the only way in and out. That’s the best way, for us. But the apartment’s got a front door, too, and a hall, and other elevators, and even staircases.”
Murch’s Mom said, “That part’s okay, Stanley. What I wonder about is this seventy percent.”
“That’s not natural,” Tiny said. “For a fence to take the light end of the seesaw.”
Murch’s Mom appealed to Dortmunder: “So what do you think, John? Did he mean it?”
“Well, in a way,” Dortmunder said. “I think he meant he was that mad at the guy owns the apartment. He’s still that mad at the guy, so that right now what he thinks he wants is revenge.”
“I agree,” Kelp said. “But this is before Arnie has paper money in his hand.”
“Green beats revenge,” Tiny said, “every time.”
“The thing is,” Stan said, “seventy percent of what? We give him, I dunno, a silver ashtray, he says I got a hundred bucks for it, here’s your seventy. Whadawe know what he got for it? He doesn’t deal with people where you’re gonna have invoices, receipts.”
“If Arnie ever saw a paper trail,” Dortmunder said, “he’d set fire to it.”
“So what it comes down to,” Murch’s Mom said, “we do the work, we take the risks, he gives us whatever he wants to give us.”
“Like always,” Kelp said. “It’s trust makes the world go round.”
“Tomorrow,” Tiny said, “I’ll go look at this place.” To Stan and his Mom he said, “You wanna be there?”
They looked at each other and both shook their heads. “We just drive,” Stan said. “You guys say it’s good, we’ll show up.”
“Right,” his Mom said.
“Fine.” Tiny looked at Dortmunder and Kelp. “You two are going to check on the O.J.?”
“That’s the plan,” Kelp said.
“So where do we meet after?”
“Not the O.J., I don’t think,” Dortmunder said. “Not until we know for sure what’s what.” He looked around his crowded living room. “And maybe not here.”
“It’s daytime,” Tiny said. “We’ll meet at the fountain in the park. Three o’clock?”
“Fine,” Dortmunder said, and they all heard the apartment door open. The others looked at their host, who stood and called, “May?”
“You’re home?”
May appeared in the doorway, gazed around the room, and said, “You’re all home.”
Everybody else got to their feet to say hello to May and get likewise back, and then she said, “How come you didn’t go to the O.J.?”
“It’s a long story,” Dortmunder said.
“We’ve all heard it,” Tiny said, moving toward the door. “Night, May. Three o’clock tomorrow, Dortmunder.”
Chapter 12
----
Judson Blint entered names and addresses into the computer. He printed out labels and affixed them to the small cardboard boxes of books, along with appropriate postage from the Pitney Bowes stamp machine. He stacked the labeled boxes on the tall–handled metal cart and, when it was full, wheeled it out of the office to the elevator, then on down to the postal substation on the Avalon State Bank Tower lobby level. After turning the boxes over to the United States Postal Service, he used the tagged keys J.C. Taylor had given him to open Box 88, Super Star Music Co.; Box 13, Allied Commissioners’ Courses, Inc.; Box 69, Intertherapeutic Research Service; and Box 222, Commercial Attaché, Republic of Maylohda. Back upstairs, he put all the mail on his desk except the few items for Maylohda, which appeared to come from real countries and official organizations connected with the United Nations. After a discreet knock on the door to the inner office, he then brought the Maylohda mail in and placed it on the desk in front of J.C. herself, who was usually on the phone, sounding very official and occasionally foreign. Back at his own desk, he next entered the newly hooked customers into the database and prepared a deposit of their
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