Sometimes Mother got confused. She was easy enough to handle then, so long as you didn’t quarrel with her. Then she would get angry. If Mrs. Hernández would just remember that, and not disagree when Mother said odd things, she’d get along all right. Lindsey didn’t really want to put her away. She just needed someone to stay with her so she didn’t wander off or get into trouble.
After supper she seemed happy cleaning up and washing the dishes. Lindsey sat down and made two phone calls.
First he tried Cape ’n’ Dagger in San Francisco. He took a chance that there would still be someone there, and he was lucky. “This is Hobart Lindsey, International Surety calling. I’m trying to reach a Mr. Jack Glessner.”
“That’s me.” There was something odd about the voice. Not an accent. More an intonation. As if the man had a limited amount of breath and was rationing the syllables.
“This concerns an insurance claim. I’ll need to discuss it with you, Mr. Glessner.” He expected a quick okay, but he didn’t get it.
“Let me have you number,” Glessner said. “I’ll call you back.”
Lindsey gave him the number.
“Aren’t you working awfully late?” Glessner asked.
“Ah, I brought some work home with me. There’s so much paperwork, you see, and—” He heard the receiver click down.
Lindsey looked in on Mother while he waited for Glessner to call back. He fixed himself a coffee with Bailey’s Irish Cream in it. He sat and thought about Jack Glessner. Why had he been so upset to hear from International Surety?
Maybe Glessner thought he was investigating a claim against Cape ’n’ Dagger. People are always filing claims against retail shops. They trip on the carpet and twist an ankle and don’t even say anything about it. Then they get home and it swells up and they want to sue the store. Things like that. Maybe Glessner thought it was something like that.
Of course, International Surety wasn’t Cape ’n’ Dagger’s carrier, but half of their accounts came through agencies, and the insureds didn’t know or care who the carrier was, they just dealt with the agent.
But also, maybe, it wasn’t that simple.
What if Glessner, or somebody working for him, was the burglar? Patterson had implied that Glessner bore a grudge against him, Patterson had once worked for Glessner and then quit to open his own shop. Glessner could have pulled the burglary for the double motive of picking up a batch of highly valuable merchandise and ruining his ex-employee, now his rival.
And Glessner could act as his own fence. He had the connections, he had the customers, he even owned stores in other cities. Collectors have been known to buy stolen goods even though they knew they were getting hot merchandise. Some collectors are fanatics.
If Glessner had the stolen comics and somebody from International Surety called him up, he certainly would be spooked. He might be headed for SFO and a quick jet to Mexico right now!
The phone rang.
It was Jack Glessner. “Sorry to hold you up,” he said.
Lindsey grunted something intended to sound like, “That’s okay.”
Glessner said, “What’s the problem, Mr. Lindsey? I thought my insurance was in good shape.”
Lindsey gave him a reassuring Michael Landon-style chuckle. “There’s nothing to worry about, Mr. Glessner. International Surety needs some information and cooperation with a little problem. Could I come and have a chat with you some time soon?” It didn’t hurt to be a bit mysterious himself.
“It’s getting late, Mr. Lindsey, and you’re at an East Bay exchange....”
“Walnut Creek.”
“That’s a long trip. Would tomorrow be okay?”
In fact that was what Lindsey had in mind, and they arranged to meet in the morning.
Then Lindsey made his second call. He looked in the Contra Costa book and found Professor Nathan ben Zinowicz. The book listed a number but no address.
He dialed and waited while the phone rang. Finally someone picked up. A cultured contralto voice said, “Ben Zinowicz, ye-es?”
It didn’t sound anything like the professor. Lindsey couldn’t even tell whether it was a man or a woman.
He said, “Is he there, please?”
“This is Francis speaking. May I be of assistance?”
“The prof told me to call for an appointment. So I’m calling.” Good gosh, he was getting tired of being run around!
“Yes, well perhaps you’ll tell me who you are, and a little bit about your problem.”
“I’d rather talk to the professor, Ms. Francis.”
“Just Francis, please. The professor is traveling right now.”
“When will he be back?”
“Perhaps if you will just tell me about it.”
Lindsey counted ten-nine-eight under his breath, unclenched his teeth and explained the reason for his call. If ben Zinowicz was interested in International Surety’s money he could earn it, and if not, Lindsey was sure that somebody else would be.
Francis said, “Stand by please, Mr. Lindsey.” He put him on hold and the sound of a string quartet playing “Glow little glow-worm glimmer, glimmer” came across the line. From the kitchen Lindsey heard the sounds of Mother putting away the china and glasses.
“I’ve been in communication with Dr. ben Zinowicz,” Francis resumed, “and he will see you tomorrow evening. I believe Dr. ben Zinowicz has already pointed out the importance of punctuality.”
“Yes. Just give me the address and the time. I’ll be there.”
“We are located in Point Richmond. The streets are somewhat difficult after dark. If you will come to the town, I will escort you to the house.”
“Really, just give me the directions. I can find it.” Lindsey was getting annoyed.
“Take Canal Boulevard west from Highway 17. Follow that until you pass the municipal pool and cross the Santa Fe tracks. Turn right on Railroad Avenue. Park halfway up the block and cross the street. You’ll find the Baltic Restaurant. I’ll meet you in the cocktail lounge. Wear a white snap-brim hat and carry your briefcase so I’ll recognize you. Tomorrow, eight-thirty P.M.”
And he hung up.
Lindsey dialed ben Zinowicz’s number again. He got a tape in Francis’s marshmallow voice asking him to leave his name and number. He slammed the telephone down.
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