apartment house. And that’s not all. Unless Snyder and I both are watching too much cloak-and-dagger on TV, this guy himself had a tail on him. We were a whole damn procession shuttling around town.”
“Are you sure of this?” Romstead asked.
“We’re sure of the guy; the tail’s only a guess. He was right ahead of Snyder at the electronics place and then came into the bar on Van Ness—where Cullen worked—while Snyder was still there. Real bruiser, big as you are but mean-looking, apparently just been in a fight. Had a cut place over one eye and a swollen right hand—”
“Wait,” Romstead interrupted. “Driving a green Porsche with Nevada plates?”
“That’s right. Then you know him?”
“I’ve met him. He’s her brother, Lew Bonner. I don’t get it, though, why he’s poking into it. He had it all worked out; my old man was to blame for everything that happened to her. But what about the tail?”
“As I say, we’re not sure. Could be just a coincidence, but seeing him in Bonner’s area three times in different parts of town is stretching it. Name’s Delevan; he used to be in the business but had his license yanked and did a stretch in San Quentin for extortion—”
“Can you describe him?” Romstead cut in quickly.
“He’s pretty hefty himself, about six two, over two hundred pounds, partially bald—”
“Okay,” Romstead said. “He’s not the one.”
“That shook down your apartment, you mean? When did it happen?”
“Just after I took off for Reno. I think he must have clocked me out, made sure I was on the plane, and then came back and let himself in.” Romstead told him the whole thing. He was puzzled also.
“Sounds pro to me, too, but what the hell would he be after? That’s a furnished apartment, isn’t it?”
“The only things in it that are mine are clothes, luggage, and that hi-fi gear and some records.”
“Planting a bug, maybe?”
“I thought of that, but why? They wouldn’t know I’m interested in them. I didn’t know it myself until this morning. You haven’t got a description on Tallant?”
“No, but I can get one damned fast. Let me call you back in about ten minutes.”
“Fine.” Romstead hung up, frowning. What was Bonner doing in San Francisco, checking back on Jeri? Had he held out on Brubaker or learned something new? He waited, consumed with impatience. When the phone rang, he snatched it up.
“I just called Snyder,” Murdock said, “and he checked back with one of the people he’d talked to in North Beach. Tallant’s about thirty or thirty-two, medium height, slender, black hair, brown eyes—”
“That’s enough,” Romstead cut in. “Have you got an extra man you can get hold of this time of night?”
“Sure. You want Miss Foley covered?”
“Like a blanket, every minute till I get back there. I don’t know what the son of a bitch is up to or what he had to do with the old man, but he sounds wrong as hell to me.”
“We’ll take care of it. What’s her apartment number? And description?”
Romstead told him. “That retainer I gave you won’t begin to cover this, but for references you can check the Wells Fargo Bank on Montgomery Street or the Southland Trust in San Diego.”
“That’s all right. You’re coming back tomorrow?”
“Sometime tomorrow. I guess I should have stayed there; that seems to be where it is. But as long as I’m up here, I might as well go ahead and finish what I started to do. Don’t let her out of your sight. And see what else you can find out about Tallant.”
After he’d hung up, he debated whether to call Mayo again but decided there was no point in getting her upset over something that could be miles into left field. He had complete confidence in Murdock, anyway.
He called Paulette Carmody’s number. She was out, playing bridge, Carmelita said, and would be back around midnight. Well, he could talk to her tomorrow.
7
It was full daylight when Romstead emerged from
“Are you sure of this?” Romstead asked.
“We’re sure of the guy; the tail’s only a guess. He was right ahead of Snyder at the electronics place and then came into the bar on Van Ness—where Cullen worked—while Snyder was still there. Real bruiser, big as you are but mean-looking, apparently just been in a fight. Had a cut place over one eye and a swollen right hand—”
“Wait,” Romstead interrupted. “Driving a green Porsche with Nevada plates?”
“That’s right. Then you know him?”
“I’ve met him. He’s her brother, Lew Bonner. I don’t get it, though, why he’s poking into it. He had it all worked out; my old man was to blame for everything that happened to her. But what about the tail?”
“As I say, we’re not sure. Could be just a coincidence, but seeing him in Bonner’s area three times in different parts of town is stretching it. Name’s Delevan; he used to be in the business but had his license yanked and did a stretch in San Quentin for extortion—”
“Can you describe him?” Romstead cut in quickly.
“He’s pretty hefty himself, about six two, over two hundred pounds, partially bald—”
“Okay,” Romstead said. “He’s not the one.”
“That shook down your apartment, you mean? When did it happen?”
“Just after I took off for Reno. I think he must have clocked me out, made sure I was on the plane, and then came back and let himself in.” Romstead told him the whole thing. He was puzzled also.
“Sounds pro to me, too, but what the hell would he be after? That’s a furnished apartment, isn’t it?”
“The only things in it that are mine are clothes, luggage, and that hi-fi gear and some records.”
“Planting a bug, maybe?”
“I thought of that, but why? They wouldn’t know I’m interested in them. I didn’t know it myself until this morning. You haven’t got a description on Tallant?”
“No, but I can get one damned fast. Let me call you back in about ten minutes.”
“Fine.” Romstead hung up, frowning. What was Bonner doing in San Francisco, checking back on Jeri? Had he held out on Brubaker or learned something new? He waited, consumed with impatience. When the phone rang, he snatched it up.
“I just called Snyder,” Murdock said, “and he checked back with one of the people he’d talked to in North Beach. Tallant’s about thirty or thirty-two, medium height, slender, black hair, brown eyes—”
“That’s enough,” Romstead cut in. “Have you got an extra man you can get hold of this time of night?”
“Sure. You want Miss Foley covered?”
“Like a blanket, every minute till I get back there. I don’t know what the son of a bitch is up to or what he had to do with the old man, but he sounds wrong as hell to me.”
“We’ll take care of it. What’s her apartment number? And description?”
Romstead told him. “That retainer I gave you won’t begin to cover this, but for references you can check the Wells Fargo Bank on Montgomery Street or the Southland Trust in San Diego.”
“That’s all right. You’re coming back tomorrow?”
“Sometime tomorrow. I guess I should have stayed there; that seems to be where it is. But as long as I’m up here, I might as well go ahead and finish what I started to do. Don’t let her out of your sight. And see what else you can find out about Tallant.”
After he’d hung up, he debated whether to call Mayo again but decided there was no point in getting her upset over something that could be miles into left field. He had complete confidence in Murdock, anyway.
He called Paulette Carmody’s number. She was out, playing bridge, Carmelita said, and would be back around midnight. Well, he could talk to her tomorrow.
7
It was full daylight when Romstead emerged from
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