“This man has metropolitan manners,” I said, and walked to the door.
She called after me, “If you’ll cut me in, I’ll work with you.”
I said, “I can’t cut you in. I told you so. I tried it. It didn’t work.”
I thought there was a flicker of satisfaction in her eyes, almost a look of relief. “Okay,” she said, “you can’t say I didn’t make the offer.” I nodded and let the door click shut.
I went back to the hotel. Mrs. Lintig hadn’t been seen in the lobby. The clerk suggested I might phone her.
The house was proud of its telephone system. It had been recently installed to “thoroughly modernize” the house. There was a sign reading House Telephones in letters a foot high. Below that sign, on a bench-like desk, was one telephone. I crossed over to it, and the clerk connected me with Mrs. Lintig’s room.
Her voice sounded hard and cautious over the line as she said, “Hello.”
“Mr. Lam, of the Blade. I’d like an interview.”
“What about?” she asked.
“How Oakview looks to you after a prolonged absence,” I said.