“He has been insistent.”
“How did you communicate?”
“Pay phone at both ends.”
“Do this: Tell him no contact for two weeks.” Stone had no idea where he’d be on this investigation in two weeks, but what the hell?
“Okay.”
“See you, Tiff.”
“Bye.”
Bob Cantor called next.
“Boy, that Tiffany is something!” he said.
“Down, Bob. Her boyfriend could buy and sell you, and he would.”
“Too bad. Oh, Amanda Dart made me rip out everything.”
“She told me. I’ll just have to live with it. You ever do any surveillance work?”
“Once in a while.”
“I’ve got two people need checking out; got a pencil?”
“Shoot.”
Stone gave him the names and addresses of the maid and chauffeur. He would check out Martha himself. “I need this soonest,” he told Cantor.
“Gotcha. Oh, Stone, I almost forgot; I might know who did the wiring job on you and the other two.”
“Yeah? Who?”
“Maybe a guy who occasionally hangs out at a bar I go to.”
“What makes you think you know?”
“He has a signature; it’s the way he wraps a wire around a terminal – he makes a kind of knot. Somebody told me about it. You want me to add this to my list?”
“You do that; I’d like very much to know who he’s working for.”
“You got it.”
Stone had a thought. “Bob, will you wire a place for me? Phone, too?”
“You bet; but it’s more expensive if I have to break in and work under pressure.”
“Her name is Martha McMahon; she works all day, five days a week; she lives in a small elevator building, no doorman.” Stone gave him the address.
“You want to listen live, or have it taped?”
“I don’t have time to listen live. Can you tape it from a remote location, so you don’t have to be there?”
“Sure.”
“Do it. Make her first on your list.”