Lawrence Sanders - Tenth Commandment

'Well,' he said, turning to face me, 'have a good time.

Enjoy it while you can.' Then he gave me a foxy grin and was gone.

When I walked out to meet Yetta, I saw at once that she was 'dolled up' and looked especially glowing and attractive. I thought this was in anticipation of lunch with me, and I swelled with male satisfaction. At the same time I imagined how shattered she would be by the can't-we-be-friends speech I had in mind. Especially when she'd gone to so much trouble.

Instead of the usual knitted suit she was wearing a dress of some shimmering stuff with a metallic gleam.

About her blonde curls was bound a light blue chiffon scarf. The electric combination of blue and green enhanced her creamy complexion, sweetly curved lips, and the look of innocence in those limpid brown eyes. Was I being too hasty in putting our relationship on a purely friendly basis?

We walked over to the Chinese restaurant, Yetta chattering briskly about a movie concerning creatures from outer space who descend to earth and turn everyone into toadstools. She assured me it had been one of the scariest movies she had ever seen.

'Also,' she added, 'it made you think.'

Then she babbled on about a used car her brother was thinking of buying, and about a girl she went to high school with who had recently obtained a job with the telephone company. Even for Yetta it was a manic performance.

All became clear over the wonton soup.

She reached across the table to put a hand heavily on mine and, since it was the hand holding my spoon, a fat wonton plumped back into the soup.

'Josh,' she said breathlessly, 'I wouldn't hurt you for the world.'

I stared at her, perplexed.

'First of all,' she started, 'I want it definitely understood that you and I can still be friends.'

Naturally I resented that. It was my line.

'Second of all,' Yetta went on, 'I have really enjoyed knowing you and these lunches and everything. I will never forget you, Josh.'

'What — ' I began.

'And third of all,' she said in a rush, 'Hamish Hooter asked me to marry him and I said yes. I know that must be a real downer for you, Josh, but I want you to know that I think I'm doing the right thing, and I've given it a lot of thought. He's not as cute as you are, Josh, that I freely admit, but he says he loves me and he needs me. Josh, you don't need me. Do you?'

There was no answer to that. I stared down into my soup bowl, saw it whisked away and a Number Three Combination slid into its place.

'Josh, don't take it too hard,' Yetta pleaded. 'It's best for all of us.'

Could I tell her that my heart was leaping upwards like a demented stag?

'You have your work,' she continued, 'and I know how important it is to you. Will you pass the sweet-and-sour sauce, please? So I thought — Hamish and I thought — that this would be the best way to tell you, honestly and straight out. He wanted to be here, but I said it would be best if I told you myself. . Josh,' Yetta Apatoff continued, staring at me with those guileless eyes, 'I hope you don't hate me?'

'Hate you?' I said, keeping any hint of glee out of my voice. 'How could I? All I want is what makes you happy.

Yetta, I wish you the best of everything. Hooter is a very lucky man.'

'Oh, Josh,' she said, sighing, 'you're so nice and understanding. I knew you would be. I told Hammy — that's what I call him: Hammy — I said, "Hammy, his heart may be broken, but he'll wish me the best of everything." That's what I told Hammy. Josh, is your heart broken? Could I have the mustard, please?'

I resisted the urge to suggest to Yetta that we go Dutch, and the lunch hour passed reasonably amicably, all things considered.

My first visitor upon my return to TORT was Hamish 310

Hooter. 'See here, Bigg,' he said. 'I guess Yetta told you the news?'

'She did,' I said, 'and I want to wish the two of you the best of everything.'

'Yes?' he said, surprised. 'Well, uh, thanks.'

'I hope you'll be very happy together,' I went on enthusiastically. 'I'm sure you will be. Congratulations.'

'Uh, thanks,' he said again. 'Listen, Bigg, you're being very decent about this.'

I made an 'it's nothing' gesture.

'If there's anything I can d o. . ' he went on lamely.

'Well, there is something. You know I've got an assistant now. Temporary at the moment, but my workload seems to increase every day. If a larger office becomes available, I'd appreciate it if you'd keep me in mind.'

'Well, uh, sure,' he said. 'I'll certainly do that.'

'Thank you.' I said humbly. 'And once again, I wish you every happiness.'

Next I did what most TORT employees did when they had an intraoffice problem: I went to Thelma Potts.

The news had already spread; she greeted me with a sympathetic smile. 'I'm sorry, Mr Bigg,' she said.

'The better man won,' I said.

Then she said something so completely out of character that she left me open-mouthed.

'Bullshit,' Thelma Potts said. 'You're well out of it. The girl is a moron. Not for you.'

' W e l l. . ' I said, 'at least you won.'

'You did, too,' she assured me with some asperity. 'Did you come up here for sympathy?'

'Not exactly,' I said. 'I've got a problem. Nothing to do with Yetta,' I added hastily.

'What's the problem?'

'I want to get together with Mr Teitelbaum and Mr Tabatchnick in a kind of conference. I have a lot to tell them, and it's very important, but I don't want to tell them

separately. I was hoping you would speak to Ada Mondora and maybe the two of you might arrange something.'

'It's that important?'

'It really is, Miss Potts. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't. It concerns a case each of them is handling, and the two cases have come together in a very peculiar fashion.'

'Kipper and Stonehouse?' she asked.

'Miss Potts,' I said, 'is there anything you don't know?'

'Ada and I have lunch together almost every day,' she said. 'When do you want to meet with the two Mr T's?'

'As soon as possible.' I thought of my appointment with Detective Percy Stilton. 'Not today, but tomorrow. If you can set it up.'

'I'll talk to Ada,' she said, 'and we'll see what we can do.

I'll let you know.'

'Thank you,' I said gratefully. 'I don't know what we'd all do without you.'

She sniffed.

I bent swiftly to kiss her soft cheek.

'Now that I've been jilted,' I said 'I'm available.'

'Oh you! ' she said.

I returned to my office and took calls from two more cabdrivers, one of them drunk, then did routine stuff until it was time to leave for my meeting with Stilton. I packed my scruffy briefcase, put on hat and coat, and peeked cautiously out into the corridor.

Yetta Apatoff was seated at her receptionist's post, hands clasped primly on the desk. I ducked back into my office and waited a few moments. When I peeked out again, she was in the same position, still as a statue. I ducked back inside again. But the third time I peered out, she was busy on the phone, and I immediately sailed forth and gave her a sad smile and a resigned wave of my hand as I passed.

Cowardly conduct, I know.

I arrived early at the Newsweek building. A few minutes 312

before 4.00 p.m., Percy Stilton came up behind me and stuck a hard forefinger in my ribs.

'Perce,' I said, 'I've got to tell you. I was — '

'Sure,' he said, 'but later. We've got a four o'clock appointment with Bishop Harley Oxman. He's in charge of personnel for the church the Reverend Godfrey Knurr belongs to. You just do as little talking as possible and follow my lead. In this scam, you play a lawyer.'

'I've got Mr Tabatchnick's business card,' I offered.

'Beautiful,' he said. 'Flash it.'

The church's personnel headquarters was a brightly lighted, brisk, efficient-appearing office in a five- or six-storey commercial building on Forty-ninth between Madison and Park. The walls were painted a no-nonsense beige, the floors covered with practical vinyl tile; partitions between individual offices were steel. I saw no paintings of a religious nature on view. Typewriters clacked away merrily. Men and women moving along the corridors were all in mufti. Percy and I approached the matronly receptionist, and Perce identified himself. She didn't seem surprised that the Bishop would be meeting with a detective of the New York Police Department. She spoke briefly into an intercom, then gave us a wintry smile.