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“An old lady. Sally Devon’s old wardrobe mistress. She was with her when she died. She’ll talk to anybody for company’s sake but she might come up with something.”

“Still going back thirty years?”

“Does money get old?” I asked him.

There was a jack next to the bed so I got the phone from the living room and plugged it in and laid it on the nightstand where Velda could reach it. “You stay put all day, honey. I’ll check in with you every now and then and if you want anything, just call down for it. I’ll leave your key with the super and he can check on anybody who comes in.”

“Mike . . . I’ll be fine. You don’t have to . . .”

I cut her off. “Look, if I want you for anything, I’ll call. There’s a lot you can do without getting out of bed. Relax until I need you. Shall I get somebody to stay with you?”

“No.”

“I’ll be moving fast. I don’t know where I’ll be. But I’ll check in every couple of hours. Maybe Pat here can give you a buzz too.”

“Be glad to,” he said. There was restraint in his voice and I knew how he was hurting. It isn’t easy for a guy who loves a woman to see her going down the road with somebody else. War, love . . . somebody’s got to be the loser.

So I covered her up and went outside with Pat. About twenty minutes later two men from his division came in, got a rundown on Kania, and started backtracking him. A contract killer wasn’t notorious for leaving a trail, but Marv Kania had a record, he was known. He might have been tight-lipped about his operation, but somewhere somebody was going to know something.

One thing. That’s all we needed. You could start with dead men, all right, but it won’t do you any good if they only lead to other dead men. Mr. Dickerson had played some smart cards. He had picked his people well. The ones here were clean. The ones who weren’t were dead. The hoods in town could be taken in and questioned, but if they knew nothing because the orders hadn’t been issued yet, they couldn’t say anything. It was still a free country and you couldn’t make them leave the state as long as they stayed clean. The men behind them were power who could still turn on the heat through odd but important channels so you couldn’t roust them too far.

I told Pat I’d see him sometime after lunch, walked him downstairs, left a key with the super, and gave him a fin for his trouble. Pat went on downtown and I hopped a cab across town to Annette Lee’s place, got the landlady to let me in, and stepped into her living room.

The old gal was still in her rocker, still going through that same perpetual rhythm, stopping only when her chair had inched against another piece of furniture. Her curtains were drawn back, letting in the early light, and she smiled a big hello when she saw me.

“How nice of you to come back, young man,” she said. She held out her hand without getting up and I took it. “Sit down, please.”

I tossed my hat on a table and pulled up another straight-back chair and perched on the end of it.

“Your young lady was here yesterday. We had a lovely visit. It isn’t often I get company, you know.”

I said, “She mentioned you wanted to see me.”

“Yes.” Annette Lee nodded, then leaned her head back against the chair with her eyes half shut. “We were talking. I . . .” She waved her hand vaguely in front of her face. “Sometimes I forget things. I’m going on ninety now. I think I’ve lived too long already.”

“You never live too long.”

“Perhaps so. I can still enjoy things. I can dream. Do you dream, Mr. . . . ?”

“Hammer.”

“Mr. Hammer. Do you dream?”

“Sometimes.”

“You’re not old enough to dream back like I do. It’s something like being reborn. I like to dream. They were good days then. I dream about them because they’re all I have to dream about. Yes, they were fine days.”

“What was it you wanted to tell me, Miss Lee?” I asked her gently.

“Oh?” She thought a moment, then: “There was something. Your young lady and I talked about Sally and Sue. Yes, that was it. Dear Sally, she was so lovely. It was a pity she died.”

“Miss Lee . . .”

“Yes?