"I wrote him a letter. Him and probably a hundred others. He was the only one to respond."
"Oh, good. Very good. You had no acquaintance with him whatsoever, right?"
"Right," I said. "I've already told you that."
"Question number two: How long was it after you wrote this letter before Dr. Luther acted in your behalf?"
"I don't know exactly. As I say, it was one of a number of letters, and I didn't keep track of them. I think it must have been around three months."
"I think it must have been, too, Mr. Cosgrove. In fact, I'd take an oath on it. Now-"
"Just a minute," I said. "How do you know that?"
"Because the time corresponds with another act-a series of acts, I should say-by Dr. Luther. Acts which provide the motive for your parole. Now, question number three: Has anything happened which would incline you to believe that you might be forced into a disastrous quarrel with Dr. Luther?"
"Yes," I said.
"Mrs. Luther?"
"Mrs. Luther."
"I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting the lady. Is she a raving beauty-the kind to successfully inspire a mortal quarrel?"
"Not for my money," I said. "But a lot of men would be crazy about her. You've probably seen her type. Tall, blonde, beautiful. And a bum."
He grunted. With surprise, it seemed. But when he spoke it was in his usual flat monotone.
"Well, that's about all, Mr. Cosgrove. Except for a rhetorical question. Have you dwelt any on the fact that Dr. Luther is now approaching the end of his political career, and that he must have seen the beginning of that end at about the time he received your letter?"
"I've thought about it a great deal," I said.
"And?"
"All right," I said, "I'm curious. I'm more than curious. What have you got to tell me?"
"Nothing more, Mr. Cosgrove. Until I'm convinced, in a very concrete manner, that my words will be appreciated."
"How much?"
"Five hundred."
"I haven't got it."
"A technicality. You can get it. Any man who's done as much time as you have in a place like Sandstone knows how to get money."
"You think I'm going to-"
"I think you're going to do whatever is necessary to get that five hundred."
"What are you going to tell me for the five hundred?"
"The answer to your riddle. How to keep Patrick Cosgrove alive and at liberty. When you know what I know-and make certain parties acquainted with that fact-your troubles will vanish even as the legendary snowball in hell."
"I'm pretty much mixed up," I said. "I don't see how… How soon do you want the money?"
"Not later than tomorrow night. Say six o'clock."
"That isn't much time."
"I don't think you have very much, Mr. Cosgrove. From the way things are shaping up, I think your time is running out very fast. Unless you know what I know by tomorrow night, I don't think it will be of much value to you-or to me."
"But six o'clock," I said. "Something might come up that I couldn't get away that early. Could you make it after dinner, around eight?"
"That will be after dark," he said. "The other tenants will be out of their offices."
"What of it?"
"That's right. What? I'll be expecting trouble from you. Expecting it, Mr. Cosgrove. So I wouldn't bring anything with me, if I were in your place, but the money."
"Oh, hell," I laughed. "What would it get me?"
"Eight o'clock, then."
"I'll be there."
I'll be there before eight. I'll be there when you get back from your dinner.
20
Doc was backing his car out as I stepped off the porch, and I stood and waited for him to pass. He stopped and called to me, smiling.
"How's the job going, Pat?" he said. "Haven't kicked you out yet, have they?"
"Why, no," I said, showing a proper amount of surprise at the question. "Were they supposed to?"
"Maybe not. It may be a little early yet. They haven't said anything to you about Burkman, eh?"
"Not a word." I shook my head. "Is there some trouble?"
"We-ell-" he hesitated, "nothing that you need to worry about. We'll have to get you a new sponsor, but that shouldn't be difficult. Any number of the boys should be glad to come through for you."
"Fine," I said. "I'm glad to hear it."
"But I suspect we should be getting you a little better acquainted. Suppose you make it a point to be on hand tomorrow night. Around eight o'clock. I'm having a group in at that time."
I said I'd be there.
With a sigh of relief, I watched him back out the driveway and drive off. If he'd said tonight at eight I couldn't have met Eggleston. And ill missed out on that-
It would have been far better for me if I had missed out.
I drove out to the capitol building, circled around it, and headed back toward town. I backtracked on my trail several times, making sure that no one was following me, and reached the business district in about an hour. There I put the car on a parking lot and went to a picture show.
I left the show by a side street exit, ate lunch, and spent a couple of hours at the public library. After that I did some shopping.
I bought a small but strong pair of wire snips, a roll of adhesive tape, a pair of gloves, and a pocket flashlight. All in different stores. I went into a public toilet, unwrapped the articles and stowed them away in my pockets. I came out to the street again and sauntered slowly toward the market district.
It was now a little after five in the afternoon.
Catty-cornered to the building in which Eggleston had his offices was a workingman's bar. It was a grimy unattractive place, unpleasantly but effectively advertised by its odor of stale beer and fried fish. I wouldn't have eaten in it for pay, and I was sure Eggleston wouldn't.
I sat down at the bar, near the entrance, and ordered a drink. I glanced out the fly-specked window.
The view wasn't as good as I'd liked to have had. I could see the windows of Eggleston's offices, but I couldn't see the entrance to the building. That was on the side street, back near the alley.
I sipped my drink, waiting, watching his office windows. I didn't think he'd seen through my plan. It seemed to me that if he had he'd have said so, since it would get him nothing to let me go ahead. He might not go out to dinner, of course. In that case, I'd have to think of something else.
At six o'clock lights started coming on in the building. Some of them stayed on, but most went off after a few minutes. The shades at Eggleston's windows were drawn, and I had to stare hard to determine whether the lights were on or not.
At last, around six-thirty, when it was getting dark, I saw the broken lines of light around the shades. I saw them just in time to see them disappear. That left all the offices on his floor dark. It was better than I had hoped for.