“Oh?” he said casually. “Who’d you talk to in New York?”
“The Big Boy.”
“You know him?”
“Not personally. But I have known some of his business associates and he knows my name.”
“You get around, don’t you? Maybe you should have told me all this first.”
“It doesn’t make any difference,” I told him. “I’m not after any publicity, so there won’t be anything released about how much Cantwell lost and where he lost it.”
“Maybe I should remember you anyway.”
“Only if you decide to set this place on fire to collect the insurance,” I told him with a smile. “Thanks, again.” I went out and found the desk clerk. I showed him the picture of Cantwell. I thought I’d test the statement that everyone knew him well.
“That’s Mr. Cantwell,” the man said. “He was one of our best customers. I was sorry to
