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“Okay,” I said, stubbing out my cigarette. “I still think there’s something at the back of all this, but I’m going ahead. What chances do you think you have of becoming mayor?”

He eyed me steadily. I could see he had his nerve back and he was now on his guard. “I don’t imagine I’ll have much trouble with Wolf,” he returned, pursing his lips. “He’s not popular in town, and now you have ceased to work for him I doubt if he’ll succeed in his plan to find the girls.”

“Is Macey likely to put up another candidate now Starkey’s out of the way?”

He shrugged. “He might. I don’t know.”

“Who’s the skinny guy I met outside?”

His face clouded. “You mean Elmer? Elmer Hench? He’s my brother-in-law. He runs the business for me. I have little to do with it now. Politics take up too much of my time.”

I stood up. “Well, I guess that’s about all, Mr. Esslinger,” I said. “From now on I’m going to get some action. You’ll be seeing me again.”

He didn’t move. “I have every confidence in you,” he said, staring down at his snowy blotter. “I’m sure you’ll do your best.”

“That’s one thing you can be sure of,” I said shortly, and turned to the door. Then I paused.

A woman was standing in the doorway. How long she had been there I had no idea. She was tall, grey-haired, and her moist eyes had the sympathetic expression of wet stones. She wore a black silk dress that hung on her like a sack and there were jet buttons in her ears. When she spoke her voice had a hard baritone quality and sounded as if it didn’t want any nonsense. “Who is it?” she asked Max Esslinger.

“Mr. Spewack — the New York detective,” Esslinger said, his eyes, tired and uneasy, on the woman’s face. To me, he said: “This is my wife.”

There was no gladness or pride in his voice when he said it. The flatness of his tone, the look in his eyes, hinted of some secret despair.

Mrs. Esslinger looked at me and she moistened her lips with the tip of a pale-pink tongue. There was something rather horrible about that tongue. It reminded me of the soft belly of a slug.

“What do you want?” she said.

“It’s all right,” Esslinger broke in quickly. “He’s going now. He wanted to help Miss Sheridan. Wolf doesn’t want him to work for him anymore.”

Mrs. Esslinger’s bloodless hands folded, the fingers of her right hand holding the back of her left hand. “Audrey doesn’t need any help,” she said. “Tell him to go away.”

“I’m going,” I said, stepping past her to the door. There was something frightening about this big, vicious-looking woman. I could see the likeness between her and her brother. They were both bony, sharp-nosed, and the bloodless, cruel mouths were identical.

“I don’t like spies in my house,” she said, as I reached the door, “so don’t come here again.”

I went down the passage, through the door curtained by the velvet drapes and into the reception room.

Elmer Hench stood by the imitation ebony coffin, his long, thin, bony hands clasped in front of him and his head on one side as if he had been listening for some time.

He followed me across the room with his eyes, but neither of us said anything.

I opened the front door and, taking a deep breath, stepped into the sunshine and the noise of the traffic.

I left word with the desk clerk for Reg and Audrey to meet me at Joe’s Bar, a couple of blocks away from the hotel.

When I got to Joe’s liar, just after seven o’clock, there were only a few customers in the place and no one in the small restaurant at the back.

I told the barman I was going through to the restaurant and if anyone asked for me that’s where I’d be. He said, “Okay”, and I went into the back room, found a table in a corner away from the entrance and sat down.

A waitress in a blue overall came over as soon as I’d settled. She asked if I’d like the special dinner.

“I’m waiting for friends,” I explained. “Maybe you could get me a drink.”

When she smiled I saw she had nice teeth, and en looking at her more closely I found she had one of those figures that make truck-drivers have accidents.

“What would you like?” she asked, leaning over me. Her perfume made me dizzy.

I said I’d have a large whisky straight and watched her cross the room to the bar. Her figure seemed to run after her in excited little jerks.

Before she came back with the whisky, Reg blew in. He grinned when he saw me and pulled out a chair. “I’m starving,” he said, flopping down. “This sleuthing gnaws at my vitals.”

“Never mind your vitals,” I said. “Have you found anything?”

The waitress came back before he could tell me. She said, “Hello, Pinkie,” to Reg, who turned red. She put the whisky beside me.

I looked at Reg inquiringly. “What’ll you drink?” I asked.

“Don’t encourage him,” the waitress said, giving Reg a patronizing smile. “I’ll get him a coke.”

I watched her figure with interest until she was out of sight and then said: “Friend of yours?”

He snorted. “She lives in our house,” he said, scowling. “Just because she’s got nice teeth she thinks I’m crazy about her.”

“Teeth aren’t everything,” I said, and then: “How did you get on?”

He ran his fingers through his unruly hair. “Ted’s known at the Street-Camera Studio,” he said. “He’s been there a number of times and he did buy some photographs. The dame there doesn’t remember whether the pictures were of the missing girls or not.”

“Couldn’t you refresh her memory?”

He shrugged. “She’s dumb,” he said, in disgust. “You know the type of dame. She wouldn’t remember when she had her last meal.”

“How come she remembers Ted going there?”

“He made a play for her,” Reg returned. “That guy goes for the dames in a big way. She thought he bought the pictures as an excuse to call on her.”

“Haven’t you any details?” I asked, rolling a cigarette across the tablecloth to him.

“He started coming to the shop a month or so ago. He got friendly with this dame — she fell for him in a big way — and he used to pick up one or two pictures of girls that were lying on the counter. After he’d kidded her for a while, he’d pay for the pictures and beat it. She was in such a trance she never noticed what the pictures were.”

“He didn’t give her a ticket then?”

Reg shook his head. “No, I guess he was too smart for that. I did find out the pictures taken on the previous day were always displayed on the counter. It looks like he’s the guy, but it’ll be difficult to pin it on him.”

I grunted. “That doesn’t get us very far,” I said. “What else did you find out?”

Reg let smoke drift down his nostrils. “I called on a friend of his. A guy named Roger Kirk. He and Ted go around together. He knows me, but he didn’t open up. I think maybe you might have a talk with him.”

I looked at him thoughtfully. “What’s on your mind?”

“This guy Kirk might know how involved Ted was with the missing girls. If you could scare him enough to talk, you might find something to work on.”

“It’s an idea,” I said, “but we’ve got to watch out step. If Kirk tips Ted that we’re suspicious of him, it might gum up the works. After all, Esslinger’s going to be the big noise in this town if I’m not mistaken, and we’ll have to watch out. But still, I don’t think we can afford to pass up any lead. I’ll see what I can do about Kirk.”

“I’ll leave him to you,” Reg said, shifting restlessly on his chair. “When do we eat? I’m starving.”