“Depends,” Delaney said. “How long has Blank been living there?”
“I don’t know exactly. I been working there four years, and he was living there when I started.”
“He was married then?”
“Yeah. A big zoftig blonde. A real piece of push. Then he got divorced.”
“Know where his ex-wife is living?”
“No.”
“Does he have any woman now? Anyone regular who visits him?”
“Yeah. What does this young cunt look like? The one her father doesn’t want her to see Blank?”
“About eighteen,” Delaney said smoothly. “Long blonde hair. About five-four or five. Maybe one-twenty. Blue eyes. Peaches-and-cream complexion. Big jugs.”
“Yum-yum,” the doorman said, licking his lips. “I ain’t seen anyone like that around.”
“Anyone else? Any woman?”
“Yeah. A rich bitch. Mink coat down to her feet. About thirty, thirty-five. No tits. Black hair. White face. No makeup. A weirdo.”
“Know her name?”
“No. She comes and she goes by cab.”
“Sleep over?”
“Sure. Sometimes. What do you think?”
“That’s interesting.”
“Yeah? How interesting?”
“You’re getting there,” Delaney said coldly. “Don’t get greedy. Anyone else?”
“No women. A boy.”
“A boy?”
“Yeah. About eleven, twelve. Around there. Pretty enough to be a girl. I heard Blank call him Tony.”
“What’s going on there?”
“What the hell do you think?”
“This Tony ever sleep over?”
“I never seen it. One of the other doors tells me yes. Once or twice.”
“This Blank got any close friends? In the building, I mean?”
“The Mortons.”
“A family?”
“Married couple. No children. You want a lot for your sawbuck, don’t you?”
Sighing, Delaney reached for his wallet again. But he looked up, saw a squad car roll to a stop just outside the luncheonette, and he paused. A uniformed cop got out of the car and came inside. The cabbies had gone, but the two hookers were picking their teeth, finishing their coffee. The cop glanced at them, then his eyes slid over Delaney’s table.
He recognized the Captain, and Delaney recognized him. Handrette. A good man. Maybe a little too fast with his stick, but a good, brave cop. And smart enough not to greet a plain-clothesman or superior officer out of uniform in public unless spoken to first. His eyes moved away from Delaney. He ordered two hamburgers with everything, two coffees, and two Danish to go. Delaney gave Charles Lipsky another ten. “Who are the Mortons?” he asked. “Blank’s friends.”
“Loaded. Top floor penthouse. They own a store on Madison Avenue that sells sex stuff.”
“Sex stuff?”
“Yeah,” Lipsky said with his wet leer. “You know, candles shaped like pricks. Stuff like that.”
Delaney nodded. Probably the Erotica. When he had commanded the 251st, he had made inquiries about the possibility of closing the place down and making it stick. The legal department told him to forget it; it would never hold up in court.
“Blank got any hobbies?” he asked Lipsky casually. “Is he a baseball or football nut? Anything like that?”
“Mountain climbing,” Lipsky said. “He likes to climb mountains.”
“Climb mountains?” Delaney said, with no change of expression. “He must be crazy.”
“Yeah. He’s always going away on weekends in the Spring and Fall. He takes all this crap with him in his car.”
“Crap? What kind of crap?”
“You know-a knapsack, a sleeping bag, a rope, things you tie on your shoes so you don’t slip.”
“Oh yes,” Delaney said. “Now I know what you mean. And an ax for chipping away ice and rocks. Does he take an ax with him on these trips?”
“Never seen it. What’s this got to do with cutting him loose from the young cunt?”
“Nothing,” Delaney shrugged. “Just trying to get a line on him. Listen, to get back to this woman of his. The skinny one with black hair. You know her name?”
“No.”
“She come around very often?”
“She’ll be there like three nights in a row. Then I won’t see her for a week or so. No regular schedule, if that’s what you’re hoping.” He grinned shrewdly at Delaney. Two of his front teeth were missing, two were chipped; the Captain wondered what kind of bet he had welshed on.
“Comes and goes by cab?”
“That’s right. Or they walk out together.”
“The next time you’re on duty, if she comes or goes by cab, get the license number of the hack, the date, and the time. That’s all I need-the date, the time, the license number of the cab. There’s another tenner in it for you.”
“And then all you got to do is check the trip sheets. Right?”
“Right,” Delaney said, smiling bleakly. “You’re way ahead of me.”
“I could have been a private eye,” Lipsky bragged. “I’d make a hell of a dick. Listen, I got to go now.”
“Wait. Wait just a minute,” Delaney said, making up his mind that moment. He watched the cop pay for the hamburgers, coffee, Danish and carry the bag out to his partner in the parked squad. He wondered idly if the cop insisted on paying because he, the Captain, was there.
“In your apartment house,” Delaney said slowly, “you keep master keys? Or dupes to all the door locks on tenants’ doors, locks they put on themselves?”
“Sure we got dupes,” Lipsky frowned. “What do you think? I mean, in case of fire or an emergency, we got to get in-right?”
“And where are all these keys kept?”
“Right outside the assistant manager’s office we got-” Lipsky stopped suddenly. His lips drew back from his chipped teeth. “If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking,” he said, “forget it. Not a chance. No way.”
“Look, Mr. Lipsky,” Delaney said earnestly, sincerely, hunching forward on the table. “It’s not like I want to loot the place. I wouldn’t take a cigarette butt out of there. All I want to do is look around.”
“Yeah? For what?”
“This woman he’s been sleeping with. Maybe a photo of them together. Maybe a letter from her to him. Maybe she’s keeping some clothes up there in his closet. Anything that’ll help my client convince his daughter that Blank has been cheating on her all along.”
“But if you don’t take anything, how…”
“You tell me,” Delaney said. “You claim you could have been a private eye. How would you handle it?”
Lipsky stared at him, puzzled. Then his eyes widened. “Camera!” he gasped. “A miniature camera. You take pictures!”
Delaney slapped the table top with his palm. “Mr. Lipsky, you’re all right,” he chuckled. “You’d make a hell of a detective. I take a miniature camera. I shoot letters, photos, clothes, any evidence at all that Blank has been shacking up with this black-haired twist or even this kid Tony. I put everything back exactly where it was. Believe me, I know how to do it. He’ll never know anyone’s been in there. He leaves for work around nine and comes back around six. Something like that-correct?”
“Yeah.”
“So the apartment’s empty all day?”
“Yeah.”
“Cleaning woman?”
“Two days a week. But she comes early and she’s out by noon.”
“So…what’s the problem? It’ll take me an hour. No more, I swear. Would anyone miss the keys?”
“Nah. That board’s got a zillion keys.”
“So there you are. I come into the lobby. You’ve already got the keys off the board. You slip them to me. I’m up and down in an hour. Probably less. I pass the keys back to you. You replace them. You’re going on duty days starting today-right? So we make it about two or three in the afternoon. Right?”
“How much?” Lipsky said hoarsely.
Got him, Delaney thought.
“Twenty bucks,” the Captain said.
“Twenty?” Lipsky cried, horrified. “I wouldn’t do it for less than a C. If I’m caught, it’s my ass.”
Five minutes later they had agreed on fifty dollars, twenty immediately, thirty when Delaney returned the keys, and an extra twenty if Lipsky could get the license number of the cab used by Blank’s skinny girl friend.