Necessity

She came up beside him and gave the button an u

At first he gave her a surreptitious sidewise glance. Then a more direct look: surprise and recognition. Then hesitation—he’d be thinking about whether to speak or hold his tongue.

If he’d been less brash he’d have let it go. Knowing who she was he might have been afraid to speak to her; he could have pretended he didn’t recognize her—they’d only met once, after all, and it had been a crowded di

But she was counting on his nerve and he didn’t fail her.

Big beaming grin. “Hi. Mrs. LaCasse, isn’t it? Hello there.”

She gave him a startled look and one of those polite smiles you use when you’re accosted by someone you don’t recognize.

The elevator door opened and he held it for her. “Ray Seale? We met a few months ago at the Sertics’?”

“Of course.” She let the smile grow broader. “You’re the detective.”

“You got it.” You could see how pleased he was that she remembered him. He punched a button.

She said, “Would you push eleven please?”

“You bet.”

The doors slid shut and his eyes drifted restlessly down her body, unclothing her. She put on the polite smile again. “Are you—‘on a case’? Is that how you put it?”

“No ma’am. Just going to work. My office is on twelve.”

“Why, I didn’t know you were in this building. It’s my first time here. I have a little trouble with my lower back … someone told me Dr. Nobles is a very good chiropractor.”

“That so? I’ve got a little back trouble myself now and then. Good to know.”

The car stopped on the ground floor and several people boarded. She moved back into the corner and watched Ray Seale. He seemed uneasy; at first he gave her a little smile but then he stood with his head thrown back, watching the illuminated numbers climb. He didn’t speak again until the last of the other passengers got off at the ninth floor. Then he waited for the doors to close and said in a voice that was too offhand, “If you feel like it come on up and visit the office when you get done at the doctor’s.”

“I wouldn’t want to disturb you.”

“Be a pleasure to have some distraction from paperwork and telephones.” The doors had opened; he held his thumb on a button to keep them from closing. “Come on up. Show you how the real investigators operate.”

“Well, thank you very much. If you’re sure it won’t be a disruption.”

She stepped off the elevator and smiled at him until the doors shut.

On the remote chance that Seale might decide to check up on her story she made good on the chiropractic appointment, spent twenty minutes filling out a detailed medical history form, read part of an article about the world series of poker in an old New Yorker and submitted to half an hour’s chaste examination by the bald doctor, who listened to her complaint about recurring pains in the lower back and prescribed a number of exercises she could do at home and told her to come back Monday morning to begin a program of traction-machine treatments and chiropractic manipulations.

She thanked him very much and went out to the desk and made a Monday appointment that she would cancel later by telephone if she got everything she needed today from Ray Seale.

It was half past eleven when she went up to his office. The black legend on the frosted glass panels of the double entrance doors was in big bold lettering to inspire confidence. Seale & Edwards—Confidential Investigations.

The opening of the door made a bell jingle. There was a bullpen—eight desks behind a wooden railing. It was half occupied: three men and one woman on telephones and typing and reading stapled documents.

Most of them glanced up when she entered. The jingle of the bell above the door drew Ray Seale out of the private office across the room; he smiled when he recognized her.

An acned receptionist at a desk, fat rump overflowing the seat of her chair, was on the phone:

“I’m sorry. That’s Mr. Edwards’ special field. No, I’m afraid we haven’t got anybody else in the firm who can handle that kind of thing. Mr. Edwards? No, I’m sorry, he’s away on an important case. No telling how long he may be gone …”

She hung up and winked at Ray Seale, who came forward to greet his visitor. As he passed the reception desk and opened the low gate in the railing he said, “Who dat?”

“Some woman wanted us to find her Pekingese. I told her Mr. Edwards was away.”

“Old Edwards does spend a lot of time away, don’t he.”

He turned and welcomed her with a gesture and explained: “There’s no Edwards. Never has been. Seale & Edwards is a corporate name I just made up when I went into business for myself. In the event of complaints it’s useful to have a partner to pass the buck to. And there’s always the cases you don’t want to take.”

His smile was sly; his ma

He swept an arm around, indicating the bullpen. “Here’s where we do the job. You see four desks unattended. That’s because I’ve got a kid and two ex-cops out chasing leads this morning. That fourth desk belongs to a redheaded girl never turns up before ten-thirty, eleven, but that’s all right. Girl’s got the most amazing telephone voice—she can seduce more information over the phone than you can believe.”

He dropped his voice to a confidential level. “She’s got beady crosseyes and ugly buck teeth but you can’t see that on the telephone. She can come in at four in the afternoon for all I care, long as she keeps producing the kind of results she’s been getting. Well come on in the private office here. Gloria, this is Mrs. LaCasse.”

The name made its impression on the receptionist; she all but stood up. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

Ray Seale showed her into the office and shut the door. It was redolent of stale essence of cigar. Halfway to his desk he hesitated. “I hope you don’t mind. I always keep it shut. No point having the employees think I’m spying on them.”

She gave permission by not commenting on it. She said, “So this is where you work,” as if it mattered to her.

“Yes ma’am. How’s your back? That chiropractor do you some good?”

“It was just a consultation. I gather he’ll have more to tell me next week, after he’s done some X-rays.”

“I hope it works out all right. Nothing worse than back pain.”

“Thank you.”

She looked out through the sooty windows at the Newark skyline. There were piles of half-melted snow on the rooftops.

Ray Seale followed the direction of her glance and said, “Town always manages to look like Dresden right after the Allies got done bombing it. Not a terrific view, is it. I’d move away like a shot if business wasn’t so good here. But if your trade’s repossessing cars and televisions, skip-tracing characters that run out on their creditors or their families, ain’t no place better for business than a city where everybody’s behind on their payments.”

“It must be fascinating work.”

“No. Mostly routine. Have a seat there. Can we get you some coffee or something?”

“No thank you. I really can’t stay. But I do think it’s very exciting, the work you do.”

He was watching her with a peculiar intensity when she sat down. Then he said: “It’s really kind of unca