“I don’t think these people were thieves. One was an architect, I think. Another a lawyer.”
“Did Kramer have any interests besides his-ah-work?” Hawes asked.
“Like what?”
“Hobbies? Organizations? You know.”
“He liked to hunt. He went on hunting trips every now and then.”
“Where?”
“The mountains.”
“Take you with him?”
“No. I don’t like to kill animals.”
“Did you and Kramer get along, Miss O’Hara?”
“Very well. Why?”
“Do you personally know any criminals, Miss O’Hara?”
“You mean did I hire the person who shot Sy?”
“If you prefer.”
“No. I did not hire him, and I do not know any criminals. I know only one person connected with crime, and he is beginning to bore me.”
Hawes smiled. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I have to ask questions. That’s what I’m paid for.”
“Shall I get that stuff for you?”
“Please. It might help us. Or don’t you care whether or not we find his murderers?”
Nancy thought this over gravely. “Sy’s dead,” she said simply. “Our relationship was a temporary one. I liked him a lot, and I suppose I’d like to see justice triumph. I’ll help you in any way possible. Will I weep bitterly? No, I will not. Will I think of Sy six months from now? Probably not. Do I sound hard and cynical?”
“Yes.”
“Perhaps it’s because I am hard and cynical.”
The words came from Hawes’s mouth before he knew he was about to speak them. “You look soft and sentimental,” he said.
“Here comes the sex bit again,” she answered.
“Yes, here comes the sex bit. Will you get me the bankbook, the checkbook, and the address book, please?”
“Sure,” she said. She rose and started out of the room. At the door she turned and said, “Maybe I will weep bitterly. I liked Sy.”
“Good.”
“And I suppose men always make passes. I suppose it’s the nature of the beast.”
“I suppose so,” Hawes said.
“I shouldn’t have squelched you.”
“Maybe I was out of line.”
“Maybe you weren’t.”
She looked at Hawes steadily.
“Miss O’Hara,” he said, “I’ve never dated a redhead.”
“No?”
“No. I’m leaving the office at six thirty tonight. Do you think we might have dinner together?”
“To find out more about Sy and his bad associates?”
“No. To find out more about you.”
“I have a very hearty appetite. I’m an expensive date.”
Hawes grinned. “I received my graft rake-off today,” he said.
“I believe you.”
“Can you be out of those dungarees by seven thirty?”
“I can,” she said. “It’s a question of whether I will.”
“Will you?”
“Yes.” She paused. “Don’t expect…”
“I’m not.”
“Okay.” She left the room to get the items he wanted.
THEY HAD DINNER in one of the city’s better restaurants. Nancy O’Hara was very pleasant company, and Cotton Hawes fell hopelessly in love with her. He would fall hopefully out of love with her by the next day, but for now she was the only woman in the universe. And so they ate a nourishing meal. And so they talked and laughed and drank. And so they went to a late movie. And so they went back to Nancy’s apartment for a nightcap.
And so to bed.
The passbook for the savings account looked like this:
The account had been started in October with the sum of $21,000. In January there had been an additional deposit of $9,000, and in April a third deposit of $15,000. The interest, computed on April first and indicated in the passbook at the time the April eleventh deposit had been made, was $187.50. Kramer had not made a withdrawal since the account had been opened.
The checking account was a working account. There were regular deposits and withdrawals. The deposits were usually made around the first of each month, give or take a week. The deposits were made in three unvarying amounts: $500, $300, and $1,100. The withdrawals were made in varying amounts-to pay bills and for pocket money. The savings account, it seemed, had been Kramer’s nest egg. The checking account was the one that had sustained him in his daily pursuit of happiness, to the tune of $1,900 a month.
The bank, on Monday morning, July first, had two checks that were waiting to be deposited in Kramer’s checking account. The checks had apparently been mailed together with a deposit slip on the afternoon Kramer had been killed. They had not reached the bank until Friday morning, had not been got to that afternoon, and so were still waiting for deposit on Monday.
Both checks were made payable to cash.
One check was in the amount of $500.
The other was in the amount of $300.
One was signed by a woman named Lucy Mencken.
The other was signed by a man named Edward Schlesser.
Both checks had been endorsed for deposit by Sy Kramer.
LUCY MENCKEN tried hard not to appear voluptuous. It was impossible. She wore a man-tailored suit and low walking shoes, and her long brown hair was pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck, and she tried to give the impression of a sedate exurban matron, but it was impossible.
