My desktop Xerox sprang smartly into life. By enlarging the photo and increasing its contrast I was able in a few minutes to get enough of the inscription back to see what Eddie Mohr had been up to. The South Side retiree, as the paper labeled him, was accepting an award from a blurry name that I thought was probably Hector Beauregard. Hector, the blurry secretary of Chicago Settlement, was thrilled at the contribution Eddie had made to his favorite charity.

Mr. Contreras, following along with a horny finger as I deciphered, whistled under his breath. “I never figured Eddie for the charity type. Knights of Columbus, maybe, but not some downtown outfit, which I guess Chicago Settlement is.”

I sat on the end of my desk, hard. “It’s not just a downtown charity, it’s a pet of my good old ex-husband, Dick Yarborough. Max Loewenthal’s son, Michael, played at a benefit for them two weeks ago and I saw Dick there, leading the charge at a feeding frenzy. This is not just curious, it’s downright creepy. I think I need to talk to Mr. Mohr. Can you bring me along? Make the introductions?”

Mr. Contreras removed his glasses again and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Why do you want to talk to him? You don’t think he’s doing something, well, underhanded with this Chicago Settlement outfit, do you? They wouldn’t put it in the papers if there was something fishy to it.”

“I don’t know what I think. That’s why I want to talk to him. It’s just too—too much of a coincidence. Mitch carries his picture around along with a story about Diamond Head. My old husband Dick is really pimping Chicago Settlement. Meanwhile Dick’s father-in-law has a brother who owns Diamond Head. Eddie and Dick and Jason Felitti all know each other. I’ve got to find out why Mitch thought that was valuable.”

“I don’t like it, doll.”

“I don’t like it either.” I spread my hands in appeal. “But it’s all I’ve got, so it’s what I have to use.”

“It makes me feel, I don’t know, like a sneak. A scab.”

My mouth twisted in unhappiness. “Detective work is like that; it isn’t usually glamor and excitement. It’s often drudgery, and sometimes it feels like betrayal. I won’t ask you to come along if it really makes you feel like a scab. But I’m going to have to talk to Eddie Mohr, whether you’re there or not.”

“Oh, I’ll come if you’re set on it,” he said slowly. “I can see I kind of don’t have a choice.”

38

An Old Husband Surfaces