of time in an old man's memory.

"Who was the other man?"

"Come now, Mr. Archer, you can'texpect to walk in off the street and pump me dry. I've been practicing law forforty years."

"Why did you take McGee's case?"

"Tom used to do some work on my boats. I ratherliked him."

"Aren't you interested in clearing him?"

"Not at the expense of another innocentman."

"You know who the other man is?"

"I know who he is, if Tom can bebelieved." While he still sat solidly in his chair, he was withdrawingfrom me like a magician through dissolving mirrors. "I don't divulge thesecrets that come to me. I bury 'em, sir. That's why they come to me.

"It would be a hell of a thing if they put Tomback in San Quentin for the rest of his life, or gassed him."

"It certainly would. But I suspect you're tryingto enlist me in your cause, rather than Tom's."

"We could certainly use you."

"Who are 'we'?"

"McGee's daughter Dolly and her husband AlexKincaid, Jerry Marks and me."

"And what is your cause?"

"The solution of those three murders."

"You make it sound very simple andneat," he said. "Life never is. Life always has loose ends, and it'ssometimes best to let them ravel out."

"Is that what Mrs. Deloneywants?"

"I wasn't speaking on behalf of Mrs.Deloney. I don't expect to." He worked a speck of tobacco onto the tip ofhis tongue, and spat it out.

"Did she come to you for information about theMcGee case?"

"No comment."

"That probably means yes. It's a furtherindication that the McGee case and the Deloney killing are connected."

"We won't discuss it," he saidshortly. "As for your suggestion that I join forces with you, Jerry Markshad the same idea this morning. As I told him, I'll think about it. In themeantime I want you and Jerry to think about something. Tom McGee and hisdaughter may be on opposite sides of this issue. They certainly were ten yearsago."

"She was a child then, manipulated byadults."

"I know that." He rose, bulkinghuge in his light tweed suit. "It's been interesting talking to you butI'm overdue for a luncheon meeting." He moved past me to the door,gesturing with his cigar. "Come along."

chapter26

I walked down the main street to thePacific Hotel and asked for Mrs. Hoffman. She had just checked out, leaving noforwarding address. The bellhop who handled her bag said she had ridden away ina taxi with another old lady wearing a green coat. I gave him five dollars andmy motel address, and told him it would be worth another five to find out wherethey'd gone.

It was past two o'clock, and my instincttold me this was the crucial day. I felt cut off from what was happening in theprivate offices of the courthouse, in the shooting gallery and laboratory wherethe ballistics tests were being conducted, behind the locked door of thenursing home. Time was slipping away, flowing past me like Heraclitus' river,while I was checking up on the vagaries of old ladies.

I went back to the telephone booths behindthe hotel lobby and called Godwin's office. The doctor was with a patient, andwouldn't be available until ten minutes to three. I tried Jerry Marks. Hissecretary told me he was still out.

I made a collect call to the Waltersagency in Reno. Arnie answered the phone:

"Nice timing, Lew. I just got the word on yourboy."

"Which one? Bradshaw or Foley?"

"Both of them in a way. You wanted toknow why Foley lost his job at the Solitaire Club. The answer is he used hisposition in the cashier's cage to find out how much Bradshaw was worth."

"How did he do that?"

"You know how the clubs check up ontheir customers when they open an account. They put in a query to thecustomer's bank, get an approximate figure on his bank balance, and set a limitto his credit accordingly. 'Low three' means a threefigure bank balance on thelow side, and maybe a limit of a couple of hundred. A 'high four' might beseven or eight thousand, and a 'low five' maybe twenty or thirty thousand.Which incidentally is Bradshaw's bracket."

"Is he a gambler?"

"He isn't. That's the point. He neveropened an account at the Solitaire, or anywhere else that I know of, but Foleyput in a query on him anyway. The club caught it, did a double check on Foley,and got him out of there fast."

"It smells like possible blackmail, Arnie."

"More than possible," he said. "Foleyadmits to a bit of a record in that line."

"What else does he admit?"

© Alexander Sviyash, 2009