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It was a dilapidated old building on lower Broadway. The office was on the tenth floor and the flaking sign on the door read:
KENNETH BAILEY
ACE INVEST GA IONS
Beneath it:
ROCKEFELLER C LLECTION AG NCY
Je
Seated at one of the desks was a bald, shabbily dressed, middle-aged man working on some papers. Against the opposite wall at another desk was a man in his early thirties. He had brick-red hair and bright blue eyes. His skin was pale and freckled. He was dressed in tight-fitting jeans, a tee shirt, and white canvas shoes without socks. He was talking into the telephone.
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Desser, I have two of my best operatives working on your case. We should have news of your husband any day now. I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you for a little more expense money…No, don’t bother mailing it. The mails are terrible. I’ll be in your neighborhood this afternoon. I’ll stop by and pick it up.”
He replaced the receiver and looked up and saw Je
He rose to his feet, smiled and held out a strong, firm hand. “I’m Ke
Je
“Oh.” There was surprise in his blue eyes.
The bald-headed man was staring at Je
Ke
Je
“That’s right. What’s your scam?”
“My—?” Then, realizing, “I’m an attorney.”
Ke
Je
“Perhaps I’ll look a little further,” she said. “I’m not sure—”
“Your rent would only be ninety dollars a month.”
“I could buy this building for ninety dollars a month,” Je
“Hey, wait a minute.”
Je
Ke
It was a bargain. Je
“I’ll take it,” Je
“You won’t be sorry,” Ke
“They’re in.”
Ke
JENNIFER PARKER
ATTORNEY AT LAW
Je
Now that Je
Je
She arrived at her desk promptly at nine o’clock every morning, but there was nothing for her to do except listen to Ken Bailey and Otto Wenzel talking on the telephone.
Ken Bailey’s cases seemed to consist mostly of finding runaway spouses and children, and at first Je
Otto Wenzel was an enigma. His telephone rang constantly. He would pick it up, mutter a few words into it, write something on a piece of paper and disappear for a few hours.
“Oscar does repo’s,” Ken Bailey explained to Je
“Repo’s?”
“Yeah. Collection companies use him to get back automobiles, television sets, washing machines—you name it.”
He looked at Je
“I have some things coming up,” Je
He nodded. “Don’t let it get you down. Anyone can make a mistake.”
Je
Ken Bailey was unwrapping a large, thick roast-beef sandwich. “Like some?”
It looked delicious. “No, thanks,” Je
“Okay.”
She watched him bite into the juicy sandwich. He saw her expression and said, “You sure you—?”
“No, thank you. I—I have an appointment.”
Ken Bailey watched Je
Emma Lazarus was a sentimental idiot, Je
Je
The following day, Je
“I found your wife,” he was saying. “The only problem, pal, is that she doesn’t want to go home…I know. Who can figure women out?…Okay. I’ll tell you where she’s staying and you can try to sweet-talk her into coming back.” He gave the address of a midtown hotel. “My pleasure.” He hung up and swung around to face Je