and then the room-service cart.
“My God!” she said.
“A little birdie told me you were coming, and I wanted to be ready.”
“I was talking about the food,” Susan said. “But now that you mention it, put your pants on.”
“Do I have to?”
“Do you always eat that much for breakfast?”
“My mother taught me that the most important meal of the day is breakfast,” Matt said solemnly.
“I’m surprised you’re not as fat as a house.”
“May I offer you a little something while I put my pants on?”
“All I had at the house was a glass of orange juice,” she said.
“Help yourself,” he said, and started for the chest of drawers.
He saw, reflected in the mirror, that she was watching him. He put an innocent look on his face and covered his crotch with both hands. Susan shook her head and smiled.
The telephone rang.
He sat on the bed and picked it up.
“Hello?”
“I hope you were sound asleep,” Jack Matthews voice said.
“Why, Special Agent Matthews of the FBI!” Matt said. “What a joy it is to hear your melodious voice!”
Susan looked frightened, decided Matt was pulling her leg again, shook her head in resignation, and then, when he nodded, signaling that he was indeed talking to an FBI agent, looked frightened again.
Matt signaled for her to come to the bed.
“Are you alone? Can you talk?”
“I am alone and I can talk,” Matt said.
He swung his feet into the bed to give Susan room to sit down. She took one of the pillows and laid it over his midsection. Then she sat on the bed. Matt held the handset away from his ear so that Susan could hear Matthews.
“Were you out with the Reynolds woman last night?”
“Indeed I was.”
“What times?”
“Jack, you’re not my mother.”
“Just answer the question, for Christ’s sake, Matt.”
“She picked me up at the hotel about half past six and dropped me back off here just before midnight. We drove out to Hershey, to the hotel. We had clam chowder, roast beef, and asparagus. Did you know, Jack, that asparagus is an aphrodisiac?”
“Don’t tell me it worked. You’re not doing anything really stupid with that woman, are you, Matt?”
“No,” Matt said, and looked into Susan’s eyes. “I’m not doing anything stupid with that woman, Jack. Did you call up for a report on my sex life, or did you have something on your mind?”
“You didn’t call.”
“I had nothing to report. I have nothing to report now, so, if you will excuse me, Jack, I will return to my breakfast. The eggs are getting cold.”
“The Ollwood woman called the Reynolds woman twice last night. Called herself ‘Mary-Ellen Porter.’ Called at six fifty-five and again at eleven thirty-two.”
“If she called herself ‘Mary-Ellen Porter,’ how do you know it was the Ollwood woman?”
“We ran a voiceprint, of course,” Matthews said, just a trifle condescendingly.
“Excuse me,” Matt said. “I should have known. A voiceprint.”
“And she called the Reynolds woman at her office yesterday morning. At 9:44.”
“You’ve got a tap on the Reynolds woman’s office phone?”
“Well, sort of.”
“What exactly does ‘sort of’ mean?”
“We have an agent in her office. Not on this, something else. But she’s an agent—”
“She’s an agent?” Matt interrupted.
“I’m not supposed to bring you in on any of this, Matt.”
“What the hell, I’m only a lousy local cop, right? Tell me as little as possible?”
“There’s a lot of fraud in the welfare system. Including some people in the Department of Social Services on the take. The programs are federally assisted, so that makes it fraud against the government. So we have somebody in there. What’s she’s done is rig a simple tap, a small recorder.”
“Has the amateur wiretapper got a name?”
“That, I’m not going to tell you. Sorry, Matt, that’s none of your business.”
“Good-bye, Jack.”
“Shit!” Matthews said. “Don’t hang up!”
“What’s her name, Jack?”
“Veronica Haynes,” Matthews said.
Susan exhaled audibly. Matt put his hand on her shoulder, and somehow Susan wound up lying beside him, with her face in his neck.
“Well, maybe this is your business after all,” Matthews said. “What happens is the Ollwood woman calls the Reynolds woman, who gives her a number. Almost certainly of a phone booth. Always a different one—you’d be surprised how many phone booths there are within a five-minute walk of the Department of Social Services Building. She uses some kind of code for the number, so we never can find it until too late. Anyway, once she gives her the number, the Reynolds woman goes to the phone booth, and the Ollwood woman calls her there.”
“So you can’t get a