Favell thought for a moment, his polished nails tapping on his blotter.
‘You may be on to something here,’ he said at length. ‘I’ve heard rumours that Kile is in contact with the underworld. Just rumours, mind you; nothing concrete. I’ve never been able to get any proof. He spends a lot of his time at the Frou-Frou Club. It’s run by a wop named Ralph Rico, a small-time fence.
Rico’s slowly moving up in the world. It wouldn’t startle me to hear Kile’s behind him. It might pay off to keep an eye on Rico.’
‘The police haven’t anything on Kile,’ Dal as said, frowning.
‘I know that. I tell you at one time Kile was in the money in a big way. Some of his deals were a little questionable, but then most big-shot financiers do edge over the line sometimes. What puzzles me is he’s been out of business now for two years. Admit edly he’s probably worth a lot stil , but he certainly knows how to spend his money. You could do worse than to look into his association with Rico. He may be planning something.’
‘Okay, I wil .’ Dal as slid off the desk. ‘If you hear anything you think’d interest me, give me a buzz.’
‘Don’t blame me if there’s nothing to it,’ Favel said, reaching for a pile of copy in his In-tray. These rumours about Kile may be a lot of phooey.’
‘I know. Half the tips I get lead nowhere,’ Dal as said gloomily. ‘That’s the hell of this job. Well, so long. Next time you stage an eye operation, better lock the door.’
He went out, tipped his hat to the red-head who was busily typing in the outer office, grinned to himself when she tossed her head at him, and made his way rapidly down to the street.