“Break in? You mean like bash down the door?”
“I walked through Maxine's apartment yesterday. Someone has torn it apart.”
Again, the blank look. “I don't know anything about it.”
“I think someone was looking for something. Could Maxine have been keeping drugs?”
He shrugged. “Who knows with Maxine. Like I said, she's screwy. ”
It was nice to know Maxine was in the area, but aside from that I couldn't get too excited about a note I couldn't read. And I definitely didn't want to hear more about Kuntz's sex life.
He draped an arm around my shoulders and leaned close. “I'm gonna level with you, sweetie-?pie. I want to get those letters back. It might even be worth something to me. You know what I mean? Just because you're working for this bail bonds guy doesn't mean you can't work for me, too, right? I'd pay good money. All you have to do is let me talk to Maxie before you turn her over to the cops.”
“Some people might consider that to be double-?dipping.”
“A thousand dollars,” Kuntz said. “That's my final offer. Take it or leave it.”
I stuck out my hand. “Deal.”
Okay, so I can be bought. At least I don't come cheap. And besides, it was for a good cause. I didn't especially like Eddie Kuntz, but I could understand about embarrassing love letters since I'd written a few myself. They'd gone to my slimy ex-?husband, and I'd consider a thousand dollars well spent if I could get them back.
“I'll need the letter,” I said to him.
He handed it over and gave me a punch in the shoulder. “Go for it.”
* * * * *
THE NOTE said the first clue was “in the big one.” I looked at the jumble of letters that followed, and I saw no pattern. Not such a surprise, since I was missing the puzzle chromosome and couldn't do puzzles designed for nine-?year-?olds. Fortunately, I lived in a building filled with seniors who sat around all day doing crosswords. And this was sort of like a crossword, right?
My first choice was Mr. Kleinschmidt in 315.
“Ho,” Mr. Kleinschmidt said when he answered the door. “It's the fearless bounty hunter. Catch any criminals today?”
“Not yet, but I'm working on it.” I handed him the airmail message. “Can you unscramble this?”
Mr. Kleinschmidt shook his head. “I do crosswords. This is a jumble. You have to go ask Lorraine Klausner on the first floor. Lorraine does jumbles.”
“Everyone's a specialist today.”
“If Mickey Mouse could fly he'd be Donald Duck.”
I wasn't sure what that meant, but I thanked Mr. Kleinschmidt and I tramped two flights down and had my finger poised to ring Lorraine's bell when her door opened.
“Sol Kleinschmidt just called and told me all about the jumbled-?up message,” Lorraine said. “Come in. I have cookies set out.”
I took a chair across from Lorraine at her kitchen table and watched her work her way through the puzzle.
“This isn't exactly a jumble,” she said, concentrating on the note. “I don't know how to do this. I only do jumbles.” She tapped her finger on the table. “I do know someone who might be able to help you, but . . .”
“But?”
“My nephew, Salvatore, has a knack for this sort of thing. Ever since he was little he's been able to solve all kinds of puzzles. One of those freak gifts.”
I looked at her expectantly.
“It's just that he can be odd sometimes. I think he's going through one of those conformity things.”
I hoped he didn't have a tongue stud. I had to struggle not to make guttural animal sounds when I talked to people wearing tongue studs. “Where does he live?”