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"I hope I'm not calling too late, Amberina," he said. "I need more information before I can broach the subject to the board of directors." "Sure," she said distractedly, as if watching something attention-riveting on television.

"First, do you know anything about the history of the building? When was it built?" "In 1901. The first high-rise apartment building in the city. The first to have an elevator." "How many stories?" "Thirteen." "Who lived there originally? What kind people?" "Well, Mary says there were financiers, government officials, railroad tycoons, judges, heiresses - that kind. Also, they had suites for visiting royalty, opera stars, and so forth. After the stock market crash in 1929, more millionaires jumped off the roof of the Casablanca than any other building in the county." "An impressive distinction," Qwilleran said wryly. "When did the place start to go downhill?

"In the Depression. They couldn't rent the expensive apartments, so they cut them up, lowered ceilings - anything to cut costs and bring in some rent money." "What can you tell me about the structure itself?" "Let's see... SOCK put out a brochure that's around here somewhere. If you don't mind waiting, I'll try to find it.

I'm not a very well-organized person." "Take your time," he said. He had been making notes, and while she searched for the brochure, he sketched out his approach to the board of directors, scheduled his departure, and made a list of people to notify.

"Okay, here I am. I found it. Sorry to keep you waiting," Amberina said. "It was with my Christmas cards." "Aren't you early with Christmas cards?" "I haven't sent out last year's cards yet!... Are you ready? It says the exterior is faced with white glazed brick.

The design is modified Moorish... Marble lobby with Persian rugs... Elevators paneled in rosewood... Mosaic tile floors in hallways. Apartments soundproof and fireproof, with twelve-foot ceilings and black walnut woodwork. Restaurant with terrace on the top floor. Also a swimming pool up there... this is the way it was in 1901, you understand. How does it sound, Mr. Qwilleran?" "Not bad! You'd better reserve that penthouse for me." "Mary told me to say that you'll be the guest of SOCK." "I can afford to pay my own rent, but I appreciate the offer. How's the parking?" "There's a paved lot with reserved spaces for tenants." "And what's the crime situation in Junktown?" "Well, we finally got the floozies and winos and pushers off the street." "How did you do that?" "The city cooperated because the Pennimans were behind it - " " - and the city realized a broader tax base," Qwilleran guessed.

"Something like that. We have a citizens' patrol at night, and, of course, we don't take any chances after dark." "How about security in the building itself?" "Pretty good. The front door is locked, and there's a buzzer system. We had a doorman until a year ago. The side door is locked except for emergencies." "Apparently the elderly woman who owns the building feels safe enough." "I guess so. She has sort of a live-in bodyguard." "Then it's a deal. Count on me to arrive next weekend." "Mary will be tickled. We'll make all the arrangements for you." "One question, Amberina. How many persons know that SOCK is inviting me to go down there?" "Well, it was Mary's idea, and she probably discussed it with Robert Maus, but she wouldn't gab it around. She's not that type." "All right. Let's keep it that way. Don't broadcast it. The story is that I want to get away from the abominable snow and ice up north, and the Casablanca is the only place that allows cats." "Okay, I'll tell Mary." "Any instructions for me when I arrive?" "Just buzz the manager from the vestibule. We don't have a doorman anymore, but the custodian will help with your luggage. It will be nice to see you again, Mr. Qwilleran." "What happened to the doorman?" he asked.

"Well," she said apologetically, "he was shot."

2

THE SENIOR PARTNER of the Pickax firm of Hasselrich Bennett & Barter, legal counsel for the Klingenschoen Memorial Fund, was an elderly man with stooped shoulders and quivering jowls, but he had the buoyant optimism and indomitability of a young man. It was Hasselrich whom Qwilleran chose to approach regarding the Casablanca proposal.

Before discussing business, the attorney insisted on serving coffee, pouring it proudly from his paternal grandmother's silver teapot into his maternal grandmother's Wedgwood cups, which rattled in the saucers as his shaking hands did the honors.

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