“Where can I reach you?” Conrad repeated impatiently.
“23c 144th Street. Why don’t you come up one night and see me, Mr. Conrad? I’ll give you a good time: honest I will, and it won’t cost you a thing.”
Conrad laughed.
“That’s no way to talk to a respectably married man, Flo,” he said, edging her to the door. “But thanks for the offer just the same.”
“First time I’ve ever heard a married man was respectable,” she returned. “And I should know.” She paused in the doorway that led directly into the passage. “You’ll let me know as soon as you find out something, won’t you, Mr. Conrad?”
“Sure. I’ll be in touch with you before long.” He edged her into the passage. “Be seeing you,” and he closed the door.
“Pretty nearly gassed, weren’t you?” Van asked as Conrad came back into his office.
“Yeah, pretty strong.” There was a hard, tense light in Conrad’s eyes. “Madge, have we got a file on Paretti?”
“Yes.” Madge got up and went over to the filing cabinet. She found the file and brought it over to Conrad.
“Thanks.”