"You have a client?"
I nodded. I was just as glad I'd given the impression I did, although it had been unintentional on my part. His reaction had been unequivocal enough. If I was a blackmailer he wanted no part of me. And that generally means the person in question doesn't have reason to fear being blackmailed. Whatever his relationship with Portia, it wasn't something he would have trouble living down.
"I'm representing JeromeBroadfield ."
"The man who killed her."
"The police think so, Mr. Hardesty. Then again, you'd expect them to think so, wouldn't you?"
"Good point. I'd been given to understand he was virtually caught in the act. That's not the case?" I shook my head."Interesting. And you'd like to find out- "
"I'd like to find out who killed Miss Carr and framed my client."
He nodded. "But I don't see how I can help you toward that end, Mr. Scudder."
I'd been promoted- from Scudder to Mr. Scudder. I said, "How did you happen to know Portia Carr?"
"One has to know a wide variety of people in my line of work. The most fruitful contacts are not necessarily those persons with whom one would prefer to associate. I'm sure that has been your own experience as well, hasn't it? One sort of investigative work is rather like another, I suspect." He smiled graciously; I was supposed to be complimented that he saw his work as being similar to mine.
"I heard of Miss Carr before I met her," he went on. "The better sort of prostitutes can be very useful to our office. I was informed that Miss Carr was quite expensive and that her client list was primarily interested in, oh, less orthodox forms of sex."
"I understand she specialized in masochists."
"Quite." He made a face; he'd have preferred it if I'd been less specific. "English, you know. That's the English vice, so-called, and an American masochist would find an English mistress especially desirable.
Or so Miss Carr informed me. Did you know that native-bornprostitutesoftimes affect English or German accents for the benefit of their masochistic clients? Miss Carr assured meit's common practice. German accents for the Jewish clients in particular, which I find fascinating."
Ifreshened my cup of coffee.
"The fact that Miss Carr's accent was quite authentic increased my interest in her. She was vulnerable, you see."
"Because she could be deported."
He nodded. "We have a good enough working relationship with the fellows in Immigration and Naturalization. Not that it's often necessary to follow through on one's threats. The prostitute's traditional tight-lipped loyalty to her clientele is as much a romantic conceit as her heart of gold. The merest threat of deportation is enough to bring immediate offers of full cooperation."
"And that was the case with Portia Carr?"
"Absolutely.In fact she became quite eager. I think she relished the MataHari role, garnering information in bed and passing it on to me. Not that she managed to supply me with too terribly much, but she was shaping up as a promising source for my investigations."
"Any investigation in particular?"
There was just a little hesitation. "Nothing specific," he said. "I could just see that she would be useful."
I drank some more coffee. If nothing else, Hardesty was enabling me to find out just how much my own client knew. SinceBroadfield had chosen to play coy with me, I had to get this information in an indirect fashion. But Hardesty didn't know thatBroadfield hadn't been completely straight with me, so he couldn't deny anything that I might have presumably learned from him.
"So she cooperated enthusiastically," I said.
"Oh, very much so."He smiled in reminiscence. "She was quite charming, you know. And she had the notion of writing a book about her life as a prostitute and her work for me. I think that Dutch girl was an inspiration to her. Of course the Dutch girl can't set foot in the country because of the role she played, but I don't really think Portia Carr would have ever gotten round to writing that book, do you?"
"I don't know. She won't now."
"No, of course not."
"JerryBroadfield might, though. Was he terribly disappointed when you told him you weren't interested in police corruption?"
"I'm not sure I put it quite that way." He frowned abruptly. "Is that why he came to me?For heaven's sake. He wanted to write a book?" He shook his head in disbelief. "I'll never understand people," he said. "I knew that self-righteousness was a pose, and that made me resolve not to have anything to do with him, that more than the sort of information he had to offer. I simply couldn't trust him and felt he'd do my investigations more harm than good. So then he popped over to see that Special Prosecutor chap."
That Special Prosecutor chap.It wasn't hard to tell what Knox Hardesty thought ofAbner L.Prejanian .
I said, "Did it bother you that he went toPrejanian ?"
"Why on earth should it bother me?"
I shrugged. "Prejanianstarted to get a lot of ink. The papers gave him a nice play."
"More power to him if publicity is what he wants. It seems rather to have backfired on him now, though. Wouldn't you say?"
"And that must please you."
"It confirms my judgment, but aside from that why should it please me?"
"Well, you andPrejanian are rivals, aren't you?"
"Oh, I'd hardly put it that way."
"No? I thought you were. I figured that's why you got her to accuseBroadfield of extortion."
"What!"
"Why else would you do it?" I made my tone deliberately offhand, not accusing him but taking it for granted that it was something we both knew and acknowledged. "Once she was pressing charges against him he was defused andPrejanian didn't even hear his name mentioned. And it madePrejanianlook gullible for having usedBroadfield in the first place."
His grandfather or great-grandfather might have lost control. But Hardesty had enough generations of good breeding behind him so that he was able to keep almostall of his cool. He straightened in his chair, but that was about the extent of it. "You've been misinformed," he told me.
"The charge wasn't Portia's idea."
"Nor was it mine."
"Then why did she call you around noon the day before yesterday?
She wanted your advice, and you told her to go on acting as if the charge was true. Why did she call you? And why did you tell her that?"
No indignation this time.A little stalling- picking up the glass of milk, putting it downuntasted , fussing with a paperweight and a letter opener. Then he looked at me and asked how I knew she'd called him.
"I was there."
"You were-" His eyes widened. "You were the man who wanted to talk with her. But I thought- then you were working forBroadfield before the murder."
"Yes."
"For heaven's sake.I thought- well, obviously I thought you'd been engaged after he was arrested for homicide.Hmmm. So you were the man she was so nervous about. But I spoke to her before she had met you. She didn't even know your name when we talked. How did you know- she didn't tell you,that's the last thing she would have done. Oh, for heaven's sake. That was a bluff, wasn't it?"
"You could call it an educated guess."
"I'd just as soon call it a bluff. I'm not sure I'd care to play poker with you, Mr. Scudder. Yes, she called me- I might as well admit it since it's fairly obvious. And I told her to insist that the charge was true, although I knew it wasn't. But I didn't put her up to making the charge in the first place."
"Then who did?"
"Some policemen.I don't know their names, and I'm not inclined to think Miss Carr did. She said she didn't, and it's likely she'd have been open with me on that subject. You see, she hadn't wanted to press those charges. If there was a chance I could have gotten her off that hook, she'd have done what she could." He smiled. "You may think I had reason to cast a pall on Mr.Prejanian's investigation. While I'm not saddened by the spectacle of that man with egg on his face, I'd never have taken the trouble to put it there. Certain policemen, however, had a much stronger motive for sabotaging that inquiry."