“I see.” There was a long pause, then he went on, “You been through the books yet?”
“Just this minute startin’ on them, Judge. You don’t have to worry. We want guys like you around.”
“Of course you do,” the Judge snapped. “Your outfit would look mighty sick without me. Mendetta sent it to me on the first of the month. You’d better do the same.”
“That’s okay with me, Judge. First of the month? Sure, it’ll be along.”
“Well, I wish you luck, Grantham. Maybe it does run on its own power. You watch it, won’t you?”
“I’ll watch it.” Grantham hung up. “Rat number one,” he said, pursing his mouth. “Wanted to know if his rake−off was to continue. Didn’t care a damn that Tootsie was dead. Just dough.”
Lu grinned. “It ain’t every organization who’s got a Judge in its pocket,” he said. “That guy may be expensive, but he’s done some nice work for us.”
Grantham unlocked a drawer in his desk and took out a little leather−bound note−book. He flicked through the pages and then, finding what he was looking for, he studied the page carefully. “Yeah,” he said; “last year he had seventeen of our girls before him. Twelve dismissals, four warnings and one small fine. Yeah, I guess he’s worth the dough all right.”
Once more the phone rang. “Yeah?” Grantham said, again picking up the receiver. “Yeah, it’s Grantham speaking. Is that you, Mr. Hackensfield?… How are you?… Mendetta? Sure we know he’s dead…. Yeah, too bad…. No, you don’t have to worry…. Sure we want you to work along with us. First of the month?… Yeah, we’re lookin’ into it right now…. Sure you’re useful…. That’s all right, Mr. Hackensfield. It’ll be along.” He hung up.
Lu said, “They like their dough, these guys.” Grantham nodded. “The District Attorney wanted to know if Mendetta’s death was goin’ to make any difference to his income,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “This is goin’ on all day, Lu. I may as well get used to it.”