building's real owner. He'd divulge the information the following morning, as soon as T.S. met him with payment in cash. So much for trust. But at least he had the information.
The second message was even more uplifting. Lilah had called to say that her day had been productive but boring, and that she'd missed the chance to detect by his side. It wasn't the same as saying that she'd missed him, technically speaking, but it was enough to inspire him to sing the theme song from The Impossible Dream in the shower before he hit the sack.
CHAPTER NINE
Lenny Melk's office turned out to be a coffee shop at the corner of Centre and Duane Streets. He was waiting for T.S. out front. "You're the guy, right?" he said, eyeing T.S.'s charcoal gray sweater.
"It's nice to be so unforgettable," T.S. answered drily. "I knew you in a minute."
"I'm kind of a distinctive guy," Lenny admitted, automatically brushing the dandruff flakes off of his shoulders. He wore the same suit he'd worn two days before. It had not been dry-cleaned in the interim.
"Let me buy you a bagel," he offered T.S. "They got great lox here."
Lenny actually did spring for the bagel, but first T.S. had to hand over his cash payment. "I don't like to carry a lot of cash around with me," the entrepreneur confided to T.S. as they waited for their order. "Too dangerous."
"I agree. It's much safer to let your bookie hold it for you."
Lenny stared at T.S. closely and couldn't decide if he'd been joking. So he compromised and ignored the remark. "I've got that information for you," he said, after they had found a spot outside on a nearby low brick wall. "Let's sit here. We can watch all the secretaries going in to work. Take a look at that one, would you?"
T.S. did not indulge in petty ogling of unknown women. He took a look at his bagel instead and then took a bite. Lenny was right. It was excellent. They chewed in silence for a few minutes. Or, at least, T.S. chewed. Lenny Melk went right to the swallow.
"They got a whole string of dummy companies set up," Lenny finally confided, as he licked extra cream cheese from the paper wrapping. "But it's easy to find your way through if you know what you're doing. Like me."
"What's the bottom line?" T.S. mumbled through a mouthful of bagel.
"Everything seems to come back to some guy name of Lance Worthington. He runs an outfit called Broadway Backers. Last listed address is 1515 Broadway. Ring a bell?"
T.S. shook his head. "Never heard of the guy."
"Me, either. Must not be any kind of mover or shaker." Lenny bit off a chunk of bagel with gusto. "Speaking of movers and shakers," he sputtered, nodding his head toward a young woman late for work, who had abandoned decorum in favor of speed.
"You find out anything else?" T.S. was nearing the end of his bagel and was ready to move on to more dignified tasks.
"Well, the guy owns a couple of buildings in the neighborhood. One of them is two doors down. The other's on Tenth Avenue." He gave T.S. a crumpled wad of paper. Several addresses were scrawled across the center of the page and the margins were filled with notes like, "19-1/Stormy Spirit: 2nd at Aqueduct."
"Thanks," T.S. told Lenny. "Perhaps we shall meet again one day." He shook the man's hand firmly and ignored the small smear of cream cheese that squeezed between their fingers like putty. It was vastly preferable to watching Lenny Melk wipe his hands on the pants legs of the already well-abused suit.
"A pleasure doing business with you," Lenny declared. By the time T.S. reached the corner and turned toward the subway, the self-proclaimed real estate consultant was already heading for a nearby telephone, optimistically patting the wad of cash in his pocket.
Auntie Lil and Herbert were waiting for T.S. at the Delicious Deli. It was obvious from their faces that something big had happened. After introducing him to the deli owner, Auntie Lil pulled T.S. so close that he was practically in her lap, then whispered in his ear. "Be discreet. I'm not sure we can trust him entirely." She nodded toward Billy, who had returned to slicing slabs of roast beef at a rotary cutter located at the far end of the counter. The whirr would have made it impossible for him to eavesdrop.
"Then why are we here?" T.S. asked sensibly. "There are