“I’ll have someone bring you out the last five years’ worth of backwards directories,” Mahoney said. “You can look up the addresses; they’ll tell you name and phone numbers of the people they used to belong to.”

“That would be super,” Decker said. “In the meantime, can you punch in the name Hersh Schwartz, Shartz, or Shatz and see if anyone with those names has a record?”

“You got it,” Mahoney said.

Five minutes later, Decker saw a woman officer teetering under the weight of five large phone books. It wasn’t until he took the books away that he noticed she was gravid, ready to drop any moment. She smiled as he stared, saying that the exercise was good for the baby.

Decker parked himself at an empty table, out of the way of foot traffic.

He opened the first book.

Nothing.

Mahoney called out that their computer had no record of any Hersh Schwartz, Shartz, or Shatz.

A half hour later, Decker hit the mother lode with book number four. A Benedetto address was cross-referenced to a man named Tony Sacaretti. He walked over to Mahoney and asked him to feed the computer the name.

“Tony Sacaretti?” Mahoney said, punching in the letters. “Never heard of him.”

It came out nehvahoidovem.

Decker waited, jaw clenched. All he needed was for Hersh to fuck up just one time. For a scumbag like him, that wasn’t too much to ask for.

His faith in the depravity of human nature was rewarded.

Bingo!

Tony Sacaretti alias Hersh Schaltz. Arrested for misdemeanor possession three years ago, nineteen at the time. Sentenced to two years’ probation. Hersh was now a free man. The computer hadn’t mentioned the name the first time around because the address had been an old one—before Hersh had been entered into the computer.

Mahoney said, “That your man?”

“Bet your ass,” Decker said.

“Okay,” Mahoney said. “Now if you just hang on a sec.” He typed rapidly onto the keyboard, then waited. A few seconds later, there was another readout. “Movin’ right along, this is Schaltz’s last known address according to Probation.”

“There a phone number with the address?” Decker asked.

“Yep.” Mahoney pushed another button. In a matter of seconds, the information on the monitor was printed on paper. He tore off the sheet.

Decker regarded the printout. This address, this lone address. He hoped it was the place where Noam Levine was hiding out. But if Hersh Schaltz had nothing to do with Noam’s disappearance, Decker had nothing. He asked Mahoney if he could use the phone. Mahoney said it was right behind him, press the third button.

Decker called the number listed. It rang and rang and rang.

At least it wasn’t disconnected.

Then he called the phone company. Using Mahoney’s badge number, he asked for a name to match up with the number in question.