Write me a Letter

kids?”
    ”They’re fine,” he said guardedly.
    ”Mom?”
    ”Not so good last time I was out there,” he said. ”When was the last time you were out there?”
    ”Tony, give me a break,” I said. ”I’ve been busy, haven’t I. I’ve even been up in Canada , for Christ’s sake. I’m still shivering.”
    There was a long pause. Oh-oh. Somehow I didn’t get the feeling that Tony was about to give me a break.
    ”Tony, I need a favor,” I said. ”I’m up in Sac on a case, can you run three or four names through the computer for me? I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”
    ”No,” he said, not trying too hard to keep the satisfaction out of his voice. ”You know it’s against the rules.”
    Helping your brother isn’t, I thought. What I said was, ”OK, talk to you later,” and hung up. I dialed the same number again and this time asked to be put through to Momma. Momma was in. Momma was delighted to hear from me, she claimed. Sure she’d run a few names for me through the system, no sweat. While she was doing so, I asked her if by any chance D. Gresham the Third had spilled all, thus leading to the recovery of all the stolen antiques, thus leading to a hefty payout from certain insurance companies to a certain highly skilled investigator. She laughed.
    ”Forget it,” she said. ”All he did was smile like a cherub, then he went back to his chanting again, three times I talked to him. He’s already walked, what have we got on him? Possession of one stolen article, value, who knows, five hundred bucks? Seven-fifty? Hang on, it’s coming through.” I hung on. I rolled my eyes at Katy. She rolled hers back. ”Dunno why this one’s still in the computer,” she said after a minute. ”Pearlman, Arnold J. He was wanted in Kansas for nonpayment of alimony, but hell, it’s ten years out of date. Now, your Elkins, William, no middle initial? Guess what?”
    ”I guess you are an OK doll, and I guess I owe you an intimate candle-lit supper,” I said.
    ”He’s got more aliases than I’ve got gray hairs,” she said. ”Real name, Paul Horbovetz, that’s H-o-r-b-o-v-e-t-z.”
    ”Horbovetz,” I echoed, writing the name down. ”Reading between the lines,” Momma said, ”and noting the company he used to keep, I’d say he was your specialist B-and-E pro, probably did hundreds of jobs, mostly for one of the New York families, one conviction only, did 18 months of a one-to-three. That do you? You can have the details if you want, there’s only about a page of them.”
    ”That’ll do me fine, darling,” I said. I said I’d call her as soon as I was back in town, blew her a kiss, and hung up. ”Bingo!” I said to Katy. ”Who’s the lucky boy today.”
    ”Mr. Elkins?” said Katy, who had been hanging on to my every word, to say nothing of my arm a couple of times. ”I can’t believe it. He’s the sweetest little thing. He doesn’t join in much with our group activities, but he’s always polite as can be whenever we meet.”
    ”What does someone who breaks and enters for a living look like, Katy me dear? Riddle me that. A sweet little inoffensive citizen or a blood-stained Jack the Ripper with a bundle of swag over one shoulder? If you’ll kindly provide me with Mr. Elkins’ particulars, I think I might stroll over and have a word with him.”
    ”Well, I’ll be damned,” Katy said, beginning to get angry. ”I think I’ll just stroll with you.” Her cheeks started to redden.
    ”You are not strolling anywhere,” I said firmly. ”You are paying me to stroll down dark alleys and into enemy territory, not vice versa. You are staying here by the phone, which you are picking up and dialing the fuzz with if I’m not back in an hour or haven’t called you in that time.”
    ”Oh, shoot,” she said. ”OK. But be careful.”
    ”I’m always careful, except on the dance floor,” I said, getting up. ”But I don’t think our Mr. Elkins is the violent type or Momma would have mentioned it. It doesn’t go with the job, either.”
    ”By the way, who is Momma?” she asked, pointing out for me on a map of the estate where Mr. Elkins’ home was.
    ”A friend, a lady cop, who has access to police files, unlike my brother I spoke to, too, who is not a friend and who has access to police files. Well, toodle-oo.”
    I toddled. She saw me to the door and watched me amble down Representative Way until I turned the corner. A lady with pink hair who was out walking her pooch said