“I know, but I’d only get you in if you made it worth while. You’ve got to tell me things.”
Rogers shook his head. “I guess that’s too bad,” he said. “There’s nothin’ to tell. The Club’s like hundreds of other clubs. Maybe there’s a fight now and then between two drunks, but that’s nothin’.”
Jay pulled a face. “I didn’t think there was anything wrong with the joint,” he admitted, “but I was hoping you’d know something.”
Rogers shook his head. “No, I guess not.” He finished his drink.
“Think back,” Jay urged him. “Hasn’t anythin’ happened that made you curious? Anythin’ that somebody did or said.”
Rogers yawned. “No, I don’t think so,” he said, staring with sleepy eyes at the bottle of Scotch. “Mind you, there was one violent drunk that made a bad scene a couple of months ago, but that wasn’t anythin’ really.”
Jay shifted impatiently. “Well, tell me.”
“There was nothin’ to it. Some guy wanted to see Grantham. He wasn’t well dressed. Looked like a clerk in an office or somethin’. I thought it was odd that he should come to the Club. When Grantham didn’t show up he started to shout. Some bull about where his sister was or somethin’. We didn’t pay much attention to him.
They gave him a bum’s rush. Treated him pretty roughly. We haven’t seen him again.”
“What about his sister?”