Boom Boom had also listed the bids. In four lots, Pole Star was the low bidder. I started hunting through the apartment for my bag with the contract copies in it, then remembered I had left it at Lotty’s. Not even Lotty could I rouse at three in the morning just to get some papers.

I fixed myself a large scotch and stood at the living room window drinking it. I stared down at the late-night traffic on Halsted. Boom Boom had tried to call me to tell me what he’d found out. When he couldn’t get hold of me, he stuffed the papers behind my picture—not for me to find, but to keep anyone else from finding them. He’d thought he’d get back to them, and to me, so he didn’t leave a message for me. A spasm of pain contracted my chest. I missed Boom Boom terribly. I wanted to cry, but no tears would come.

I finally left the window and went to bed. I didn’t sleep much and what sleep I had was tormented by dreams of Boom Boom stretching his arms out from a cold, black lake while I stood helplessly by. At seven I gave up trying to rest and took a bath. I waited until eight o’clock, then called Bledsoe’s pilot, Cappy. His wife answered and called him in from the backyard where he was planting petunias.

“Mr. Cappy?” I said.

“Capstone. People call me Cappy.”

“I see … Mr. Capstone, my name is Warshawski. I’m a detective and I’m looking into Howard Mattingly’s death.”

“Never heard of the guy.”

“Wasn’t he your passenger back from Sault Ste. Marie on Friday night?”

“Nope. Not that guy.”

“Bright red hair? Scar on the left side of his face? Stocky build?”

He guessed that sounded like the same person.

“Well, we believe he was traveling under an assumed name. He turned up dead later that night. What I’m trying to find out is where he went when he left the airport.”

“Couldn’t tell you that. All I know, there was a car waiting for him at Meigs. He got in it and they took off. I was filling out my log forms, didn’t really notice.”

He hadn’t been able to see the driver. No, he couldn’t say what kind of car. It was big, not a limo, but it might have been a Caddy or an Oldsmobile.

“How did you come to take this guy home? I thought you were going to fly Mr. Bledsoe down, but you left before the Lucella got through the lock.”

“Yeah, well, Mr. Bledsoe called and told me he wasn’t flying down. Told me to take this guy instead. He said his name was Oleson and that’s what I put down on the log.”

“When did Bledsoe call you? He was on board ship all day Friday.”