Free Flesh and Blood by Thomas H. Cook Page B

average person cannot employ you. It must be a person of means. The woman you speak of, she alone in recent days could have known people of such wealth.”
    â€œWell, you’re right,” Frank said. “It was the case in the newspapers.”
    â€œI presume you are familiar with Midtown North?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œI might have been of some assistance in an introduction.”
    â€œI already know the guy who’s in charge of the case.”
    â€œAnd who is that, if you do not mind my asking.”
    â€œLeo Tannenbaum.”
    Farouk nodded. “Ah, yes.”
    â€œYou know him?”
    â€œYes, I do,” Farouk said. He finished his coffee in one sip, then took out a small notebook. “Who was the woman?”
    Frank said nothing.
    Farouk looked at him evenly. “Unless I am of assistance, there will be no charge.”
    â€œI don’t think I need any assistance,” Frank said firmly.
    â€œThat is not true, I assure you,” Farouk said, just as firmly. “Shall I tell you why?”
    â€œGo ahead.”
    â€œBecause of your nature,” Farouk said. “You are always moving. Your fingers on the table, your feet, your eyes, always moving.” He smiled knowingly. “This tells me that there are certain things which you do not do well. Things which involve stuffy rooms, papers, files, too much reading, too much sitting down. You do not bother with these things, and yet, they can be of great assistance.”
    â€œWhat makes you think that kind of work would be helpful in this case?” Frank asked.
    â€œIf memory serves,” Farouk said, “this woman was in the garment trade, yes?”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œDo you know much about this business?”
    â€œNo,” Frank admitted.
    â€œI could find out about all her business dealings,” Farouk said. “I could find out what she owned, what she recently acquired. It is quite possible that such information would be of assistance. But if it is not, I can assure you that there will be no charge for my services.”
    Frank continued to watch him, not entirely convinced.
    Farouk eyed him piercingly. “For you, it is a human thing, murder. You want to deal with it face to face, one person to another. You like to hear the voice, see the eyes.” He smiled. “I admire this.” Then he shook his head. “But it is naive.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œBecause much is hidden in words and pages. In such things, for example, even the dead still speak.”
    Frank looked at him intently. “You mean the victim?”
    â€œYes,” Farouk said. “And I might be of some assistance in finding what is hidden.”
    Frank considered it for a moment, but remained unconvinced. “There’s another problem,” he said.
    â€œAnd what is that?”
    â€œI don’t know you,” Frank said. “For all I know, you could leave here and boost a few cars on the way home.”
    Farouk frowned. “Such a petty crime,” he said contemptuously. “Surely you already think better of me than that.”
    Frank looked at him evenly. “No, I don’t.”
    â€œThen what would raise your estimation?”
    â€œA reference might help.”
    â€œWould one from the police do?”
    â€œMaybe,” Frank said. “If I knew the cop.”
    â€œPerhaps Detective Tannenbaum?”
    â€œWould he stand up for you?”
    Farouk smiled. “He would say that I do not boost cars.”
    â€œAnything else?”
    â€œThat I do not run cons, or play the Murphy man on the Avenue,” Farouk added. “He would say that I am competent, and that I am honest.” The faint smile which had been lingering on his lips disappeared suddenly. “He would say that I can be ruthless, but he would add that I usually discover the thing I’m looking for.” He leaned forward and eyed Frank intently. “Are you