Chapter 2
STEVE took an instant dislike to the doorman at the Cragmore Arms. Maybe it was part of his job to check visitors, but Steve didn't appreciate the sneaky glance he got upon replying: "Mrs. Thomas L. Crandon."
The runty, shallow-eyed character, uniformed like a Napoleonic general, was playing the part to the hilt. Out of that ridiculous tassled-uniform, Steve could imagine the little guy a strip-suited pimp on any Forty-second Street corner.
"Are you selling anything?" the doorman asked, eyeing Steve's bulging briefcase.
"Mrs. Crandon asked me to stop by," he replied, purposely avoiding any mention of selling.
The little general gave him a slow once-over. "Okay," he muttered, and turned to the elevator operator. "Apartment 3410, Joe," he informed his co-worker as though it he
