“I’ll talk,” he said, “you listen. There’s no Nelson in Levine’s office. No such person. I called New Jersey Bell. They told me a telephone at the Lake Tranquility address was disconnected four months ago. I called local real estate agencies and asked if the property was listed. Eventually I got to the broker of record. He confessed. The house you went to in Lake Tranquility has been on the market for the last four months, empty because of an executive’s transfer. With the owner out of town, the broker figured he could take two grand under the table for a one-month rental from a guy named Lederer.”

“When did this happen?”

“Early last week. Don’t worry, I got everything he knows. He really thought I was after him for grabbing the two grand. Scared to death. Lederer walked in off the street and paid cash. The broker hinted that he thought Lederer was a dope dealer. All he remembered about Lederer himself was that he was middle-aged and had a big nose.

“The broker doesn’t know anything about a couple named Tom and Irene Quinn. He never went around to the property because he figured he was being paid to stay away. You still don’t remember anything about the place you took Quinn, do you?”

“Not a prayer. It was quite a trick, following another car’s taillights while I had my head up my ass.”

“I’m glad your spirits are up, because we have the first information on Antonucci. He’s your age—actually, forty-four. And from your neck of the woods … Well, close: Astoria. He has a very long sheet, mostly robbery of one kind or another, including car theft, muggings, and trying to do the safe of a discount store out on the Island. Eighteen months for that. The rest are various assaults. Quick with his fists—even now, at his age. Antonucci is five-five and weighs a hundred and thirty-five pounds. I guess he has some kind of little-guy complex. Nothing connected with dope. If there’s a way to tie him to Lopez, that isn’t the route.”

“No, the route is me. I know him from somewhere. How did you get all this stuff?”

“I have a friend in the know. Don’t worry about it. Anyway, he says the story on Antonucci is that he’s too dumb to be in the mob, but they use him.”

“He thinks he’s in the mob,” Devlin said. “What else did your friend say? He knows who your partner is.”

“Coincidence. That’s the word they’re using down there. Understand, they have not tied you to Antonucci.”