Ed McBain - Another Part of the City

“Yes, I quite understand it, Mr. Reardon,” she said, and smiled again. “You’ve stumbled upon what you imagine to be a vast money-making scheme...”

“Never mind imagine, Miss Kidd.”

“All right, you know, or at least you believe you know because Joseph Phelps has so informed your colleagues — if a thief is to be trusted at all — and my brother has seemingly corroborated...”

“Your brother isn’t a thief.”

“No, he’s merely a fool. But let us say, Mr. Reardon, that a war will in fact begin on Christmas Day, and that there will be fighting around oil fields, and that the Kidd oil interests in the Middle East will benefit from such fighting, and let us also say that greed — there’s no other word for it,” she said, and smiled, “has led the Kidds to invest heavily in silver, on the premise that the price of silver will rise in tandem with the price of oil, and let us further say that a smart speculator, a man like your Mr. Dodge, for example...”

“Who got himself killed...”

“Yes, but that was unfortunate. A smart speculator, let’s say, who knew all about this... well, such a speculator could very well get into the market himself, couldn’t he?”

Reardon looked at her.

“Buy himself a little silver, Mr. Reardon? Mm?”

“If I’m hearing you correctly...” Reardon said.

“I believe you’re hearing me correctly. Why don’t you buy yourself some silver, Mr. Reardon? The price is certain to double, at least, within the next several weeks. You’d be betting on a sure thing, Mr. Reardon. You could make yourself a small fortune.”

“Uh-huh,” Reardon said.

“How much do you earn, Mr. Reardon? If I may be so bold.”

“A Detective/Second makes a bit more than thirty-seven a year.”

“Do you know how much you could earn in two weeks, Mr. Reardon? If you invested wisely in the silver market at this point in time? If you invested, say, half a million dollars before the close tomorrow? Bought yourself, oh, a hundred and fifty lots, something like that?”

“Half a million, huh?” Reardon said, and shook his head. “Too bad I’ve only got three thousand and some change in the bank.”

“There are people who might be willing to advance you that kind of money... perhaps even more... huge sums of money, Mr. Reardon, if they knew they were backing a sure winner.”

“Olivia’s right, you know.” Rothstein said. “You could come out of this a very rich man. Not on such a small investment, of course. Not on three thousand dollars.”

“What you said was half a million, right?” Reardon said.

“Yes,” Olivia said. “Or perhaps more. Depending on what your needs are.”

“And you think there are people who’d let me have that kind of money, huh?”

“I’m sure we could find... investors for you,” Rothstein said, and glanced quickly at Olivia.

“Backers,” Olivia said, and smiled.

“You could be a very rich man,” Rothstein said again.

“Gee, and here I thought three grand in the bank was rich,” Reardon said.

Still smiling, Olivia moved closer to him.

She put her hand on his arm.

In a voice that was almost a whisper, she said, “Move uptown, Mr. Reardon. It’s another part of the city up here.”

He looked into her eyes.

“You’ll like it up here,” she said.

He nodded.

“Lowell,” she said, “order Mr. Reardon a drink. What would you like to drink, Mr. Rear...?”

“What I think,” Reardon said, “is we all better move down town.”

He smiled.

“You’ll like it down there,” he said.

You wouldn’t have known there’d been a pretty interesting fight here just a few hours ago. Everything back in its place, furniture where it belonged, cozy fire going on the grate.

“You shoulda seen the place when I walked in,” Sandy said. “I must’ve bad a burglar or something.”

“No, you had me,” Reardon said.

“Some mess you made.”

“You should see the other guy.”

“Would you like a drink?”

“I sure could use one.”

She poured scotch over ice for him, and they sat by the fire, she curled in the beanbag, he sitting on the floor at her feet, telling her earnestly about the trail that had led to Olivia Kidd.

“The D.A. thinks the case has more holes in it than a sieve,” he said. “Actually bawled me out for dragging him over to the precinct too soon. Said we had the Arabs cold — the three Arabs, you know — not because they admitted the murders, but because one of them was carrying a gun we’re fairly sure was the murder weapon. An exotic pistol made in Switzerland, Ballistics is running it through now. But he wanted to know how we could prove Olivia ordered the hit. I told him we had to work some more on the Arabs, maybe plea-bargain them, find out who their phone connection was, trace that back to Olivia. He told me I shoulda worked on the Arabs first, and then called him when I knew I had a case that would stick all the way up the line.”

Reardon sighed heavily.

“So she walks, right?” he said.

“Maybe not,” Sandy said.

“Sure, she’ll walk. Her money? Even if we did manage to get her into a courtroom, she’d walk.” He shook his head “This job,” he said, and fell silent.

He did not say anything for a long while.

Then he said, “What do I tell the D’Annunzios? They asked me to stop by on Christmas Day. How can I go there, what do I say to Mrs. D’Annunzio? That these three dumb Arab hit men killed her husband, but the one who ordered them to do it has a good chance of walking? Two murders to protect a money-making scheme, and she walks? How’s that gonna wash? What’s that gonna tell them about justice?” He shook his head again. “I can’t even tell them I’m busy, I’d be lying to them. I mean, my daughter’ll be in Jersey with her mother, I’ve got no real excuse.”

“So go,” she said. “Tell them the truth.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he said, and looked up at her. “Will you come with me?” he asked. “If you’re not busy.”

“I’m not busy,” she said.

“Then... would you?”

“If you want me to.”

“I want you to,” he said. “ ’Cause I’ll tell you, Sandy, it’s not gonna be easy, telling them the truth. I may need some help there. Somebody to hold my hand.”

“I’ll hold your hand,” she said gently.

“ ’Cause you see, if she was right, there’s no sense being a cop at all.”

“Who?” Sandy said, puzzled. “Who do you mean?”

“The Kidd woman. Olivia. I hate to think she might have been right. I’d throw my shield in the East River if I thought she was right.”

“I still don’t under...”

“She said it was another part of the city up there. Well, if it is ... if where the rich people are, the powerful people... if that’s another part of the city up there... then what’s the sense, Sandy? There’s no sense even trying, is there?”

“There’s sense,” she said.

“I hope so,” he said, nodding. “I hope so.”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” she said.

“Yeah, the principle,” he said, and sighed heavily. “So, good,” he said, “you’ll come with me, okay? We’ll stay there awhile, and then... I don’t know... we’ll find something to do later. Maybe go sing carols or something.”

“Or something,” Sandy said, and took his hands.