"Brilliant!" Auntie Lil perked back up and patted his tiny hand fondly. "Herbert, you're a man after my own heart."
Carried away by her enthusiasm and praise, Herbert puffed up and made a rash promise. "On my part, I will search without ceasing for this man you call The Eagle," he announced. "I, too, believe he must have given Miss Emily that poison. I will not rest until he has been exposed."
"Then you had better start with trying to find the old man who saw him sitting next to Emily the day she died," Lilah said. She smiled at the group. "See? I have a good idea every now and then, too." Her smile focused on T.S. and he smiled happily back. Lilah was one big good idea, in his book.
By the end of the evening, they'd carefully laid out their plans and each of them had assigned tasks to perform. And although they'd not gotten very far yet, they all felt better knowing that their words would soon become actions.
The only thing left to decide was who would pay the check. After a brief tussle with Auntie Lil and Lilah, T.S. won. Herbert Wong took care of the tip. T.S. was not surprised to notice that it was as excessive as any Auntie Lil had ever left behind.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The next morning, T.S. rose early out of long habit. He drank his coffee while staring out over York Avenue, trying to decide how he could track down Worthy Enterprises. Then it came to him in a flash of inspiration, fueled by years as a successful executive. He would get someone else to do it. Best of all, he had just the man for the job.
Each night before going to bed, T.S. emptied his pockets into a silver dish in the top drawer of his dresser. It was easy to find the card. Gregory Rogers, Dance Master Extraordinaire, would not be of much help in this task. But Lenny Melk, Dandruff Master Extraordinaire, just might. He scrutinized the phone number carefully, suspecting the prefix was a public pay phone. Really, what was he doing trusting someone he'd only met the day before? On the other hand, considering the maze of official departments and filings that awaited him—who cared?
It rang sixteen rings without an answer, but T.S. was not dissuaded. At this early hour, he had to be home. Sure enough, Lenny Melk finally answered the phone with a sleepy and suspicious growl. "I know, I know, Vinny," he said. "It was the spread that killed me. I'll cover it by the afternoon, I promise."
"It's not Vinny," T.S. replied crisply. Why couldn't people wake up ready and raring to function, their dignity intact? He always did. What the world needed was a little more self-discipline. "This is T.S. Hubbert," he said.
"I'm not buying anything," Melk immediately replied. "So don't waste your time."
"No. It's T.S. Hubbert. We met late yesterday. Around closing time down at 99 Centre. Remember, you helped me out and almost got me lynched?"
There was a silence while this information filtered through Lenny Melk's besotted brain cells. "Oh, yeah, the real persnickety guy in the yellow sweater," he finally said.
"Yes, that's me," T.S. was forced to reply. He tactfully resisted the impulse to describe Lenny Melk back. "I need your help again. Tracking down who owns Worthy Enterprises."
"Oh, yeah? This sounds interesting. It's gonna cost you. There's a shit storm of corporate filings involved, understand?"
"Of course. How interesting would you say it was?"
"At least two hundred dollars. And another thirty-five in… um, personnel expenses."
"Done. Can you have the information by later today?"
"Well…" Lenny's voice dropped dubiously. "I suppose so. Since you're getting to be a regular customer and all…"
"Fine. Please call me back and leave the information at this number. I trust you will trust me for the payment." There was an astonished silence and T.S. took it for agreement. "I have an answering machine, so leave a message if you need to. It's urgent." T.S. supplied him with the necessary information and rang off. He hated it when other people had answering machines, but he loved his own. Today was not a day to sit at home, waiting for a phone call back. He was meeting Herbert Wong at the soup kitchen just after the noon hour to help coordinate the surveillance of Emily's apartment building. Auntie Lil had prudently decided that she should lie low for a while, at least concerning St. Barnabas.