Free A Curtain Falls by Stefanie Pintoff

anything else.” Mulvaney’s voice was deliberately casual as he reached to fold and pocket the blue letter.
    But Ira’s thumb firmly planted itself at the letter’s header near the date stamp.
    “Not so fast, Captain.” Though he smiled, there was no mistaking his note of warning.
    We froze. No one said a word.
    “I think this letter is more important than you have let on. In fact, I’d bet money on it.” He laughed, and it was a grating, guttural sound. “Why not? I bet it often enough with the boys out there.” He gestured toward the poker game in the main room, which was still going strong.
    Then he leaned in close to Mulvaney, adding, “And I never lose.”
    Leaving his thumb on the blue letter, he used his other hand to open a desk drawer and pull out two pieces of paper. One was a typewritten transcript of the blue letter; the other was a photograph taken of it. Only after he had placed them on his desk did he release his hold on the original.
    “You can see, Captain, that I’ve saved you the trouble of making a copy for me. You can have your letter. But I do have some conditions.”
    “This is police evidence, Mr. Salzburg. I don’t need your permission to take it with me.” Mulvaney remained polite, but his voice had a sharp edge.
    “Of course, of course,” Ira said. “But you do need my cooperation if you’d rather not see this— and more— in tomorrowmorning’s news. And should this writer happen to contact us again . . .”
    He let the implications of his warning linger in the air.
    Alistair tried to defuse Ira Salzburg’s not-so-veiled threat. “You know that an actress has died at the Garrick. And you’ve received a letter of interest to the police. You’ve got nothing more than that. Unless you want to invent a tale out of thin air, doesn’t sound like you have much of a story to me.”
    But Ira said, “I know what it means when a big-shot law professor— especially one with your history— walks into my office.” His smile was greasy as he settled back into his chair, placing his feet on his desk. His black shoes, polished to a high shine, glistened in the waning sunlight that came through his window. “If you’re involved in this case and taking an interest in this letter, then that tells me I’ve hit pay dirt on a good story.”
    “I’m afraid many of my interests come to nothing,” Alistair said with a self-deprecating look.
    Ira chortled in response. “You want this kept quiet, gentlemen?” Ira took a large puff from the end of his cigar.
    “In any ongoing investigation, it’s what we prefer,” Mulvaney said, his voice low. “There’s no need to scare the public or provide fodder for hoaxes. Especially in a case like this.”
    “And what sort of case is this, Captain?” The editor seemed to take a perverse delight in attempting to bait Mulvaney. He gnawed on his cigar stub. “What I want, gentlemen, is my due. We gotta trust each other. I’ll give you time. But I want an exclusive story as soon as you’ve made sufficient progress on the case— with access to evidence that’ll scoop
The Tribune
and
The World
.”
    “I don’t like it,” Mulvaney said, seething with barely repressed anger. “I don’t want this story in the paper.”
    But Ira completely ignored Mulvaney. “To make sure I get your exclusive, I’m assigning Frank to the case, effective immediately. He’s a top-notch investigative reporter.”
    Frank’s eyes widened slightly, but he did not otherwise betray any surprise.
    “That’s not exactly a sign of trust, now, is it?” Mulvaney’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
    “Can’t see how you expect us to give you any information when you are so mistrustful of us,” Alistair added.
    Ira Salzburg skillfully danced around the charge. “It will be a partnership between us. We have a public duty here, see? With any crime, we’ve got to report the straight news the public deserves to know. But we also have a duty to reassure them that