“All right. You’re a detective. So what?”

“I’m employed by Sandra Birks. Does that mean anything to you?”

She kept her eyes on the buffer as she polished her nails, apparently giving rapt attention to getting just the right sheen. “What’s Sandra Birks got to do with it?” she asked at length.

“She might have quite a good deal to do with it.”

“I don’t know the lady.”

“She’s the wife of Morgan Birks.”

“Who’s Morgan Birks?”

“Why, don’t you read the newspapers?” I asked.

“What if I do? Where do I come into that picture?”

I said, “Mrs. Birks could be pretty mean if she wanted to, you know.”

“Could she?”

“You know she could.”

“And how am I supposed to know it?”

“Let your conscience be your guide.”

She looked up at me and laughed harshly. “I haven’t any. I had to get rid of that long ago.”

“Mrs. Birks,” I said, “could drag you into court if she wanted to.”

“On what ground?”

“On the ground of being intimate with her husband.”

“Don’t you take a lot for granted?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Do I?”

“Go ahead. You’re talking. I’m listening—for a while.”

“Well, I’m doing what I’ve been hired to do.”

“And what’s that?”

“Serve papers on Morgan Birks.”

“What sort of papers?”

“Divorce papers.”

“Why come here?”

“I think you can tell me where he is.”

“Well, I can’t.”

“If you could, there’d be a bit of coin in it for you.”

I saw her eyes light with interest. “How much coin?”

“Perhaps quite a bit. It depends.”

“What does it depend on?”

“What Mrs. Birks gets out of it.”

“No, thanks. I’m not interested. I don’t think that dodo can get a damn cent.”

“Her divorce complaint doesn’t read that way.”

“It takes more than a complaint to make a divorce. It takes a judgment of a court. Mrs. Birks is one of those baby-faced bitches who hide behind a mask of respectability. She’s been cheating on Morgan ever since they were married. If Morgan wanted to tell half of the things he’s got on her—Oh well, you’re talking, I’m listening.”

“Well, Mrs. Birks can get her divorce.”

“Can she?”

“You know she can,” I said. “And if she wanted to be mean she could drag you into it. She’s got all the evidence she needs. The way she treats you depends on the way you treat her.”

“Oh, that’s it, is it?” she asked, putting down the buffer and raising her eyes to mine.

“That’s it,” I said.

She sighed. “You looked like such a nice boy, too. How about a drink?”

“No, thanks. I don’t drink when I’m working.”

“You’re working now?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry about you,” she said.

“You don’t need to be.”