“Mrs. MacIver,” he said, “what we’re going to do now is get a couple of things in motion.” Florence was reaching for the telephone. “We’ll start with Manitou and get a look at the file,” he said to her, and she began to dial. He took the handset. Over it, he said to Mrs. MacIver, “This is the file the insurance company began on your husband when he took out his first policy. With all the insurance written on him, the file should be as thick as a telephone book, with every document and piece of correspondence connected with his business.” The line opened before he was finished and he asked the operator for an extension. “You came to the right place,” he said across the desk, skipping on. “Normally, to see these papers, you have to get a court order.”

The extension was picked up and Leland identified himself and told the clerk what he wanted. Someone would have to go down to the home office after one o’clock to pick it up. Leland said thank you and goodbye. He had repeated the information for Florence, who was still copying it on a fresh page in her notebook.

“Who now?” she asked.

“Warren Johnson,” he said. He lit another cigarette and looked at his watch. Almost eleven-twenty. “Johnson is the Chief of the Manitou Police Force,” he told Mrs. MacIver. She nodded.

“Ready,” said Florence. Leland picked up the handset again.

“Warren? It’s Joe Leland.”

“Well, well. I was just about to get a warrant for your arrest. Why are you trying to screw me out of my job?” He laughed. “I was just going to call you, Joe.”

“What’s wrong?” In spite of the laughter, Leland was alarmed. This man would help him only as long as it did not cause him trouble.

“This is it, kid,” Warren Johnson said. “A reporter from the Star just called the Mayor and asked him when there would be an announcement in the Shoftel case. The Mayor wanted to know what the hell he was talking about and the fellow said that he had learned that you were working on the case but that you weren’t talking about it because of instructions you had gotten from me, which he, the reporter, assumed came from higher up.”

“You can see that he’s trying to make trouble,” Leland said.

“Of course I can see that,” Warren Johnson said. “Now what is it all about?”

Leland told him that his father had called about the article in the Herald-Press. Mrs. MacIver was smiling again. She had no idea how serious a thing like this could become. All public officials were prima donnas in their dealings with the people who needed them. Leland said into the telephone, “You tell the Mayor that I’m sorry that this happened. You know how I work. If I had anything, you’d be the first one I’d call.”