The Father Hunt

"I didn't. Except for two photographs of Elinor Denovo, I drew a blank. A complete blank. Have you phoned to find out if he's there?"

"No. You will."

"Sure. A corporation president might be anywhere in August. If I get him do I ask to see him today? I suppose you've decided how I play it."

"Not you." He cleared his throat. "Archie. You have many aptitudes, some of them extraordinary, but it will be delicate and may be thorny. Besides, it was I who dealt with him before. You were present, but I did it. I must be sure of the facts. You said on the telephone that the checks cashed by Mrs. Denovo were drawn by the Seaboard Bank and Trust Company, payable to bearer. How sure is that?"

"The only way to make it any surer would be to look at them. It came straight from the top man at the Eighty-

sixth Street branch of the Continental, where she cashed a hundred of them. His name's Atwood."

"And Mr. Ballou is now a director of the Seaboard Bank and Trust Company?"

"He is unless he quit or has been bounced very recently. It was this year's edition of Rand McNally's International Bank Directory."

"How difficult would it be to learn about the checks without Mr. Ballou's help?"

"Close to impossible. The Seaboard is a two-billion-dollar outfit. Their main office probably draws thousands of checks in a year, maybe tens of thousands, drawn by God knows how many clerks. And of course they have automation. I don't see how we could even start. I suppose we could have Sue Corbett, or Miss Denovo herself, get to some assistant vice-president and seduce him, and if it didn't work try another one, and in a year or so-"

"Get Mr. Ballou."

"You'll talk?"

"No. It will be more exigent from you. Tell him that if it will suit his convenience I would like to see him, here, at six o'clock."

I wheeled my chair and reached for the book, got the number of the Federal Holding Corporation, and dialed. Once before, when I had tried for Ballou on the phone, it had taken three people to get me through, and this time it was the same-first the switchboard female, then another female who made me spell my name twice, and then a man. They were all so reserved that I didn't even know if he was there until his voice came.

"Goodwin? Archie Goodwin?"

"Right." Knowing the voice, I went on. "I'm glad I got you. I'm calling for Mr. Wolfe. If it will suit your convenience he would like to see you, here at his office, at six o'clock, or as soon after that as you can make it."

Silence; then: "Today?"

"Yes. It's a little urgent."