Dirt

the first time since his encounter with the intruder. He was sitting at his desk, trying to make some sense of the work that had accumulated, when his secretary buzzed.
    “Yes, Alma?”
    “Bob Cantor is here to see you,” she said.
    “Send him in.”
    Cantor was, uncharacteristically, wearing a business suit. “How you doing, Stone? Recovered?”
    “Much better, thanks.”
    “This guy is some piece of work, huh?”
    “Apparently so. Have you got something for me on the maid and the driver?”
    “Right.” He got out his notebook. “The maid, Gloria, lives in Queens; she rides in every morning with the driver, Paul, and takes the subway home. She’s divorced, lives alone, sees a lot of her sister. The neighborhood storekeepers like her. Most of them give her credit, and she pays on time. She’s Hungarian, a devout Catholic, teaches catechism to kids at her church. Hard to imagine a straighter arrow. I got a look at her phone bills; she makes very few calls, none of them long distance. Nine out of ten are to her sister, her priest, and Amanda Dart. I tapped her for three days, she got four calls, all of them from her sister. I honestly think that to do more on her is a dead end.” “I agree. What about the driver?”
    “Paul is something of a character in his neighborhood. He’s gregarious, plays the ponies in a small way and, on his day off, takes the train into the city and sits in a brokerage office, watching the ticker. He’s got a couple of hundred thousand in investments, not bad for a chauffeur, and he deals in used cars, one at a time — buys them, fixes them up, and sells them for a profit. He’s good on his bills and maintains a healthy bank balance, in the low five figures, in an interest-bearing checking account. I guess he keeps that much on hand in case he finds a car he wants to buy. He’s pretty honest about selling the cars, doesn’t lie about their condition, and he gets repeat customers. One little niggling thing, for whatever it tells you: He cheats Amanda when he sells her cars.” “How?”
    “She gives him ten percent to sell them, but he takes fifteen to twenty in the end. This was easy to figure out from his recent bank statements. Still, he always gives her book wholesale. I don’t want to make too much of this.” Stone laughed. “I can’t say that I blame him. Amanda is the kind of woman who has to be annoying to work for a lot of the time, even if he is well-paid. Anything else that troubles you about either of these people?” “Nope. All in all, I’d say that Amanda Dart has herself first-rate help in every department. Except maybe Martha, who could have a weakness.”
    “What has the bug turned up?”
    “The guy who calls never uses his name; she recognizes his voice. He’s giving her a pretty hard time, I think; he could be at the point of dumping her, but he hasn’t yet. She hasn’t seen him since I’ve been on this. I get the feeling that he thinks he might still need her for something, so he’s keeping his hand in, so to speak. I’ve got the tapes if you want to hear them, but they’re all brief; the guy doesn’t like to talk on the phone. Tell you the truth, I think that if there’s a leak in Amanda’s office, it’s got to be Martha.” “I’ve been resisting that idea myself, because Amanda seems so certain that it’s not Martha, but after what you’ve told me about the others, and about these phone calls, I agree that she has to be our girl. I’m not entirely certain about Barry yet, because he screws so many people, we could never keep track. But it’s looking an awful lot like Martha.” “Are you going to tell Amanda that?”
    “Not yet. I don’t want to ruin their relationship without some hard evidence, and we’re not doing very well on coming up with that. Did Amanda talk with you about some guard work?” “Yeah; a guy I know is going to handle it. He’ll come into the office when she closes and sit on it until her people arrive in the morning. I swept the place again, and she’s still clean. Maybe I ought to have another look around here, too.” “Okay, go ahead; check back with me when you’re finished. There’s something else I want to talk with you about.”
    “See you in half an hour,” Cantor said, and left the office.
    Stone started dictating correspondence and signing checks; he had just finished when Cantor returned.
    “Well, I’ll tell you,” the ex-cop said, flopping down in a chair, “this guy is