“Why the hell didn’t you tell her I was busy? Get rid of her, Van. I’ve got other things to do than to bother my head about her. Tell her to go to the police.”
“Know who her boy friend is?” Van asked, his face suddenly serious.
“No. Who is he?”
“Toni Paretti.”
Conrad frowned. The name sounded familiar.
“Well, what about him?”
“He happens to be Maurer’s chauffeur and bodyguard,” Van said quietly. “I thought maybe you’d want to talk to her.”
Conrad took a long drag at his cigarette, then blew smoke to the ceiling.
“That’s right; of course he is.” He got to his feet. “Did she give you any details?”
“They had a date the night before last. He called her around five o’clock and told her he had a job to do. He said he would meet her at eleven o’clock at Sam’s Bar on Lennox Street. She waited until two o’clock, and then went home. Yesterday morning she kept calling his apartment, but couldn’t get a reply. She went round there in the afternoon. He wasn’t there. She asked around, but no one had seen him. She went to Sam’s Bar in the evening and waited, but he didn’t show up. This morning she decided something must have happened to him, so she’s come here.”