He changed a dollar for me and pointed me toward the pay phone. I closed myself into the booth and took out my notebook and pen and started making calls. I spent a few dimes learning who was in charge of the Dakkinen case and a couple more reaching him, but finally I was plugged into the squad room at Midtown North. I asked to speak to Detective Durkin and a voice said, “Just a minute,” and “Joe? For you,” and after a pause another voice said, “This is Joe Durkin.”

I said, “Durkin, my name is Scudder. I’d like to know if you’ve made an arrest in the Dakkinen murder.”

“I didn’t get that name,” he said.

“It’s Matthew Scudder, and I’m not trying to get information out of you, I’m trying to give it. If you haven’t arrested the pimp yet I may be able to give you a lead.”

After a pause he said, “We haven’t made any arrests.”

“She had a pimp.”

“We know that.”

“Do you have his name?”

“Look, Mr. Scudder—”

“Her pimp’s name is Chance. That may be a first or last name or it may be an alias. There’s no yellow sheet on him, not under that name.”

“How would you know about a yellow sheet?”

“I’m an ex-cop. Look, Durkin, I’ve got a lot of information and all I want to do is give it to you. Suppose I just talk for a few minutes and then you can ask anything you want.”

“All right.”

I told him what I knew about Chance. I gave him a full physical description, added a description of his car and supplied the license number. I said he had a minimum of four girls on his string and that one of them was a Ms. Sonya Hendryx, possibly known as Sunny, and I described her. “Friday night he dropped Hendryx at 444 Central Park West. It’s possible she lives there but more likely that she was going to attend a victory party for a prizefighter named Kid Bascomb. Chance has some sort of interest in Bascomb and it’s probable that someone in that building was throwing a party for him.”

He started to interrupt but I kept going. I said, “Friday night Chance learned that the Dakkinen girl wanted to end their relationship. Saturday afternoon he visited her on East Thirty-eighth Street and told her he had no objection. He told her to vacate the apartment by the end of the month. It was his apartment, he rented it and installed her in it.”

“Just a minute,” Durkin said, and I heard papers rustle. “The tenant of record is a Mr. David Goldman. That’s also the name Dakkinen’s phone’s listed in.”

“Have you been able to trace David Goldman?”

“Not yet.”