turned to stare at Lolly Stoppelgard, who looked understandably puzzled. Not that one, I wanted to cry. The other one. But they all figured it out for themselves, and eyes turned to the woman sitting on the other side of Borden Stoppelgard.
“Gwendolyn Beatrice Cooper,” I said. “Like Luke Santangelo, she came to New York hoping for acting success. In the meantime, though, she got a job at a law firm called Haber, Haber & Crowell.”
“My attorneys,” Marty said.
“And your brother-in-law’s as well. Ms. Cooper worked there, doing general office work, sometimes filling in as the relief receptionist. She was a natural choice for the front desk because she’s personable and eye-catching, and two of the eyes she caught belonged to Borden Stoppelgard. He was a happily married man. She was a young working woman going about her business. So he did the natural thing under the circumstances. He hit on her.”
“Oh, Borden,” said Lolly Stoppelgard.
“He’s full of crap,” her husband said. “I may have passed the time of day with Wendy.” Wendy! “I’m a friendly guy. But that’s as far as it went, believe me.”
“You asked her to meet you for a drink,” I said. “Then lunch, and then another lunch, and—”
“One drink,” he said, “to be sociable. On one occasion, and that’s it, total, the end. No lunches. Ask her, for God’s sake. Wendy—”
“Oh, Borden…”
“Lolly, who are you gonna believe, some convicted felon or your own loving husband?”
“I’m certainly not going to believe you. That’s just the way you hit on me, Borden.”
“Lolly—”
“You met me when I was working reception, you passed the time of day, you invited me out for a drink, you asked could we have lunch—”
“Lolly, that was completely different.”
“I know.”
“I was single then. I’m married now.”
“Exactly,” she said. “Which is why it was okay then, and why it’s not okay now, you dirty cheating son of a bitch.”
There was nothing much to say to that, and nobody did. I let the moment stretch—rather enjoying it, I have to admit—and then I said that I didn’t think it had gone very far.
“One occasion,” Borden cried. “One drink, for God’s sake!”
“Perhaps a little farther than that,” I said, “but I don’t think your husband made a very favorable impression on Miss Cooper. I’ve heard her compare him to pond scum.”
“If pond scum had a lawyer,” Lolly Stoppelgard said, “pond scum could sue for libel.”
“Say, Bernie,” Ray Kirschmann said, “this here ain’t Divorce Court, if you take my meanin’. Whether or not he’s been puttin’ her away—”
“One miserable drink, dammit!”
“—don’t really constitute police business. You were startin’ to say somethin’ about how she took the cards. He didn’t give ’em to her, did he?”
Borden Stoppelgard looked as though he might turn apoplectic at the very thought.
“No,” I said, “but he gave her the idea to steal them. Borden’s the sort of fellow who likes to brag about what he has. He started out that way with Wendy”—I’d almost called her Doll—“but before he knew it he was off on his favorite theme, his brother-in-law’s great collection and how he kept it right out in plain sight instead of tucking it away in a safe deposit vault where it belonged.”
Doll raised her eyebrows. She said, “You sound as though you must have been at the next table, Bernie. It’s funny, but I don’t remember any conversation like that. Do you, Mr. Stoppelgard?”
“Jesus,” Borden said, and turned to his left. “Wendy,” he said, “what the hell’s the matter with you? Tell the truth. Did I ever say anything to you about stealing Marty’s cards?”
“Never,” Doll said.
“I said he had some valuable material and he ought to take better care of it. I said there was stuff of his I’d love to get my hands on but he wouldn’t sell it to me. I said—”
Doll looked at him, and I guess looks can’t kill, because he didn’t die. She rolled her eyes, then aimed them at me. “Tell us more, Bernie,” she said. “How did I get my greedy little hands on the cards?”
“You found an excuse to go over to the Gilmartin apartment on York Avenue,” I said. “My guess is you turned up on the doorstep during business hours with some papers for Marty to sign. It wouldn’t have been all that hard for you to hold out an envelope and deliver it yourself instead of giving it to one of the firm’s messengers. And then—”
“I knew she looked familiar,” Marty said. “I couldn’t think why.”
“You must have seen