Putter’s security problem was really handed down from the top echelon. Nervous about the Senate Watchdog Committee delving into their expenditures, they’d put a routine tail on Senator Hawthorne. They had no idea what they’d find, but if things got rough, it might be something they could use to make ease up the pressure on them. What they’d found was me.
So Putter was assigned to keep tabs on me. The camera had been his own idea. The CIA expects its men to show initiative. Putter had been out in the tree watching the scene with Lolly. But he hadn’t had a camera then. When I’d taken her home, he’d also left and returned with one. He wanted a picture of me with the contraption. I guess his thinking was that if it became necessary to put the squeeze on me, the picture might come in handy.
Some of this Putter told me freely. The rest I pieced together myself. I passed all of it on to Senator Hawthorne over the telephone the next day.
“Well, Putter’s no real problem.” The Senator dismissed the CIA man. “But what about that teeny-bopper and Fink? The one he brought from the coast. Lolly Popstick.”
“I’m pretty sure it was only coincidence,” I told him. “They were just schlepps that pass in the night. She doesn’t even know Arch Fink had any connection with the CIA. That’s the way I see it, anyway.”
“Then we’re right back where we started from,” the Senator sighed. “We still don’t know what happened to the fifty thousand dollars. And we don’t know who killed that fellow Lenzio.”
“If he was murdered,” I reminded him. “It really could have been an accident.”
“Yes. Well, keep at it, Vance.” He hung up.
Keep at it? Keep at what? I didn’t even know where to look next. I had to admit to myself that I was floundering. The play was over and I hadn’t really turned up anything that might point the way to the missing CIA money.
I mulled over the possibilities in my mind. There was only one bit of information that didn’t quite fit in, that might be a lead. It was Phil’s revelation which I’d picked up on the tape he’d inadvertently made with Cleo. It was the fact that Cass had acted for Zelda Lenzio in persuading Roger Roundheels to file an insurance claim for Sy Lenzio’s death. Phil’s explanation had been that Cass and Zelda were probably still having an affair and that maybe Cass figured to get some of the money if Zelda collected. It didn’t help where the CIA money was concerned, but it sure might establish a motive for Cass to have killed Sy Lenzio. A double motive: romance and money.
I decided the time had come to quit sneaking around corners. It just might be that the direct approach would turn up more interesting results. Also, the time had come to play the outside odds.
I played them that afternoon at cocktail time when I returned to the Wall Street cocktail lounge where I’d spotted Cass and Zelda Lenzio the day before. I figured that illicit lovers being what they are, it was likely that they met in the same place fairly regularly.
I guessed right. When I arrived, Cass and Zelda Lenzio were already snuggled at the same table in the back of the place. I walked straight up to them. “Hello Cass. Mrs. Lenzio. Mind if I join you?” Before they could close their jaws to answer, I’d pulled up a chair and sat down facing them.
“What do you want, Powers?” Cass found his voice. It came out truculent.
“Just thought I’d say hello,” I answered blithely.
“Like hell!” Cass Wasn’t friendly. “You’re after something. Otherwise you wouldn’t be bothering us. Now what is it?”
“He’s a lawyer,” Zelda murmured. “Maybe he’s working for your wife. Maybe she’s found out about us.”
“Is that it?” Cass demanded. “Did my wife sic you on us?”
“Suppose she did?” I played the cards the way they were being dealt.
“Then she knows about us!” Cass leaped to the conclusion. “Well, what’s the pitch? Does she want a divorce? Is that it?”
“It’s not that simple,” I fished. “She wants everything that’s coming to her. A fair share of everything.”
“So that’s it!” Zelda bit her lip. “She’s found out and now she wants to be cut in.”
“That’s right,” I improvised. “If she gives Cass his freedom, she wants a healthy cut of the insurance money.”
“She has no claim on that!” Zelda was angry. “It has nothing to do with her. Or with Cass either for that matter. It’s due me because I’m Sy’s widow. She has no right to a cent of it!”
“Suppose she refuses to give Cass a divorce?” I continued playing the role I’d been handed.
“Let her! She’s not going to get a penny of that money!” Zelda was firm. “It’s bad enough I have to share it with Cass!”
“What the hell do you mean by that?” Cass was indignant.
“Love conquers all,” I reminded them. “Keep your sights on Cupid, not cupidity.”
“After all I’ve done for you,” Cass grumbled.
“Like what?” Zelda asked sarcastically.
I spoke quickly before he could answer. “Like maybe getting rid of your ex-husband for you,” I suggested.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Cass seemed genuinely startled.
“You mean his wife thinks I had him murder Sy?” Zelda looked equally amazed.
Again I played the hand they were dealing me. “Mrs. Novak feels she has strong evidence to support that view. If you don’t cooperate, she may go to the police.”
“What kind of evidence?” Cass asked.
“She says you told her you were going back to the party to kill Sy Lenzio. She says when you left her that night you were still in a rage over the fight you had with him and that you said you’d finish him once and for all.”
“But that’s a lie!” Cass protested. “I never said any such thing.”
“Maybe not.” I shrugged. “But that’s what she’ll tell the police.”
“You mean just because she found out about me and Zelda -”
“Hell hath no fury, et cetera,” I reminded him.
“He’s bluffing,” Zelda Lenzio told Cass. She was very calm.
“Don’t be too sure.” I bluffed some more.
“I am sure.”
“Oh?” I looked at her quizzically.
“That’s right. I’m sure because Sy wasn’t murdered. I know that for an absolute fact.”
“That’s right.” Cass agreed eagerly. “His death was an accident.”
“No it wasn’t.” Zelda shook her head. “If you want to be absolutely accurate, his death was suicide. And I can prove it if I have to.”
“How can you prove it?” I wanted to know.
“Because he wrote me a letter the afternoon he died. A suicide note. I’ll produce it for the police if I have to. You can tell Mrs. Novak that.”
“You mean he deliberately killed himself?” Now it was my turn to be confused.
“That’s right. Sy was pretty sick in the head. He did it to get even with me for cheating on him. Also, he was a showman right up to the end. That’s why he did it the way he did. It’s all in the letter.”
“Could I see the letter?” I asked.
She thought about it a minute. “I guess so,” she said reluctantly. “If it’ll save Cass having to go to the police, I’ll show it to you and you can advise his wife that she can’t blackmail ‘us that way.” She fished in her pocket-book, came up with an envelope, and handed it to me.
I read the letter. It was filled with vituperation. The hate alone testified to its authenticity. And in it Sy Lenzio had detailed exactly the manner of his death. It left no doubt that he’d deliberately killed himself.
“All right, Cass,” I said when I’d finished reading it, “I’ll try to get your wife to be reasonable. But first I’d like to ask you something. Do you know anything about an outfit called Democratic Philanthropies, Inc.?” I studied his reaction closely.