“Possibly. In that case, all his knowledge, his training would come out in a hobby. He couldn’t cover it up.”
“Like hell. If he broke completely everything could be shattered.”
Ernie gave me a little shrug, not really caring one way or another. That one motion said it was up to those in the field, not to him, to locate the guy and solve the problem. His was more immediate. He shoved his glasses back on his head and said, “Have you contacted Don Lavois yet?”
“No.”
“Then you’d better,” he told me. “He picked up something about a big buy in the narcotics market.”
“Damn,” I said and reached for one. I dialed his hotel, asked for his room, and let it ring a dozen times before I hung up. “Not there. Look, Ernie, I’m going back to my place and change. If Don calls, have him hop on over, otherwise I’ll call him from there.”
“Will do, buddy. Take care of yourself.”
I stuck the photos he had given me in my pocket and took the stairs down to the street, picked up the first cab and had him take me over to the Salem. It took ten minutes to shower and change and when I was ready I tried another call to Don. The desk said he still hadn’t come in and the message I left was to have him call on Mr. Martin as soon as possible.
While I made the call I fingered the employee list Doug Hamilton had checked out, tried to think it through without getting anywhere, then threw the papers back in my suitcase in disgust.
It was time again, all-important time. What was the next step? Which direction? You’d think that there were enough men in the field to come up with something, but so far there was nothing but blanks. Vito Salvi had a good reason for killing those Washington boys, but why Hamilton? Why him?
I kept remembering the bodies the way I had seen them last, remembering something I had almost forgotten. Of all the three, Hamilton had shown the signs of being there the longest. Salvi would never have involved himself with him if he hadn’t been important. Hamilton hadn’t walked in cold... he had been directly involved somehow. If he had stumbled on the deal accidentally he simply would have been killed and his body disposed of. But no... he did have that address book. He knew about Salvi and where he was. For some reason he had waded into the situation head first and had gotten trapped in something way over his head.
Doug Hamilton might have been stupid, but not that stupid. He wasn’t exactly new in investigative work and would have covered himself somehow. I looked at my watch, the time twenty minutes to ten, then slapped my hat on and went back downstairs. At the desk I left a not for Don to wait for me, told the clerk to let him have my key to get in and slipped him a buck for his trouble. I took the first cab in line outside the door and gave him the number of Hamilton’s apartment, sweated through the six-minute ride and paid him off in front of the building.
The superintendent wasn’t too happy about the intrusion. There was a time and a place for everything, he told me, and the middle of his favorite program wasn’t it. But he didn’t argue too much. I was still cop to him and he knew the value of staying on the right side when his own skirts were clean.
“Okay,” he said, “so now what?”
“Did any mail come in for Hamilton since I saw you last?”
“Few things.”
“I’d like to see them.”
“Don’t they go back to the Post Office Department?”
“Sure,” I told him, “after I check the addresses.”
“They’re at the desk.”
I stepped back, let him give me a disgusted look, and followed him back to the lobby. He went through the door in the wall, back around the counter and rummaged around in his shelves. Then he handed me five envelopes and leaned on his elbows while I went through them.
Three were bills, one from Con Ed and two from gasoline companies whose credit services he apparently used. The other two were circulars from merchandising outfits I recognized.
“This all?”
“He never got much here. Had an office, didn’t he?”
I tossed the envelopes back on the counter. “Uh-huh. We just have to keep checking, that’s all.”
“Think I ought to readdress them to there then?”
“Hold them for a few more days. You’ll be told what to do with them.”
“Okay by me. He’s still a paid-up tenant as far as I’m concerned. All part of the service.”
“Anybody ever been up to see him since I was here?”
“Nope. He never had many visitors. Besides, we aren’t that exclusive. If anybody wanted in they only had to ring the bell. The doorman isn’t on except daytime and I’m pretty busy all over the building.”
“But they’d have to ring the bell?”
The super shrugged, making another vague gesture. “Unless they come in behind somebody else. Then what good would that do? They all keep their doors locked here.”
“Standard equipment?”
“What else?”
“Pick proof?”
“Depends on what racket you’re in. The locksmith over on Third that we use when a tenant loses his keys opens them fast enough. He’s bonded though. Good man.”
“You have a master key?”
“Nope. Nothing except for building entrances, storerooms and like that. You think somebody jimmied his place?”
“Possible.”
“Well, he was a funny guy.”
I looked at him. “Why?”
“Nothing special,” the super chuckled. “He wrote a letter to himself once though, about a week before he died. That’s funny. Now what was he going to say in his answer?”
I leaned on the counter, staring down at him, and his face seemed to tighten when he saw my expression. “Where did he send it to?”
“Damned if I know. It was just from himself to himself. He gave it to me to mail on the way out like he did sometimes. I do it for everybody. Part of the service,” he said defensively.
“Well, where was the address?” I demanded, an edge in my voice.
“I told you, I don’t know. It wasn’t here or I just would of stuck it in his box.”
“His office?”
“So who can remember? Look, mister...”
“You checked it, didn’t you?”
“Sure, I told you, but I just thought it was funny. I didn’t look. If that’s all you want I got things to do. I...”
“Go ahead and do them,” I said, and watched him swallow hard and scuttle back into the office. He came out the door, gave me the look too many people reserve for cops, and walked up the lobby indignantly.
A break, at last there was a lousy break in the pattern. I went back to the street, turned north to the first open store that had a pay phone in it and dialed Charlie Corbinet.
He finally lifted the receiver and I got a taciturn “Yeah?”
“Tiger, Charlie.”
His tone changed immediately and he said, “Nothing new on this end yet. One team thought they had a lead on Agrounsky in Philly but it turned sour.”
“Then try this... get the Post Office Department checking all the General Delivery boxes in the area for a letter Doug Hamilton addressed to himself. He might have had something hot and didn’t want to keep it where it could be found.”
I could hear him scribble on a pad beside the phone. “Where’d you pick it up?”
“By accident from the super at his apartment building. It may not be worth anything but it will have to be run down. He was in this tight, buddy.”
“Will do. Shouldn’t take long. Call me back in a couple of hours.”
“Right.”
I hung up impatiently. With luck the Post Office boys wouldn’t take that long and we’d be able to move out. It had been morning since I had eaten so I stopped by the Blue Ribbon Restaurant on my way back to the hotel, had a welsh rabbit with a cold beer on the side, then took my time getting back to the Salem.