“Are you sure the city will let you see the records?” Connie asked.
“Of course,” Peggy answered. “They have to. Anything in the city files that doesn’t concern individuals is a matter of public record. I learned that from my father. He always said that the city or town archives of any place were the best reference books a reporter could want.”
“I think that makes good sense, Peggy,” Randy commented. “But it’s going to be a long list. What are you going to do when you’ve got it?”
“I’m not sure,” Peggy admitted, “but I think the best thing to do would be to cut the list down before I start to work with it.”
“I see,” Randy said. “That’s why you wanted the list of theaters we’ve already visited, so you could eliminate them.”
“Right. The next thing to do, I think,” Peggy went on, with a dreamlike feeling that she did not know at all what she was going to say next, “is to look up theaters in the classified telephone book. All the ones that are listed, I’ll eliminate from my list, on the theory that they’re probably being used by somebody right now.”
“Peggy, you’re a smart girl,” Pip said admiringly.
“You sure are,” Connie echoed.
“I won’t dispute that,” Randy agreed, “but I’m still a little puzzled. When you’ve eliminated all the theaters listed in the phone book from the theaters listed by the license bureau, what will you have?”
“What I’ll have,” Peggy said triumphantly, “is a record of all the places in New York that started out to be theaters and aren’t theaters now!”