as agnes had predicted, jack’s coffee shop was crowded at noon, so she and minerva ended up going to a little automat around the corner on 35th street.
“you can always get a seat in this place, “ minerva assured agnes. “the coffee isn’t very good.”
tomo, who had parked the countess’s limousine in front of the gray building , followed them. he was not wearing his chauffeur’s uniform, and trailed them with practiced discretion. but he need not have bothered, as minerva was completely oblivious to him.
despite minerva’s admonition about the coffee, she and agnes each got a cup, and minerva bought a creampuff and agnes a slice of cheesecake and they sat at a small table in the corner furthest from the door.
tomo was right behind them, and got a cup of coffee and sat at a table in front of the window, looking out at sixth avenue. although he had his back to agnes and minerva, agnes knew he would not miss a thing.
agnes found this a little annoying. in spite of the countess’s instructions to her to be discreet in her questioning of minerva, she wanted to just get it over with and get right to the point by asking minerva if she knew or cared about the lawsuit out in the sticks that the countess professed to be so concerned about. she had brought the clipping from the “low plains gazette” to show minerva, but with tomo watching …
“so,” minerva began. “what is all this mystery about?”
*
tomo, over at his table, had his attention distracted by a man who appeared at his table. a table that seated three or four, but at which tomo had been sitting alone.
“mind if i sit here?” the man asked, in a tone that was neither polite nor otherwise.
“i don’t own the establishment,” tomo answered.
“i didn’t think so,” the man answered and sat down. he had a cup of tea in his hand and carefully placed it on the table.
tomo considered his new companion. thin, shabbily dressed, not quite a total bum, with a real mean look in his eyes. a man who looked like he would be at home in the proverbial dark alleys. a type more familiar to tomo in europe and north africa than in the states.
the shabby man looked tomo in the eyes. “i know you.”
“i don’t think so, “ tomo answered. as he was talking to the shabby man he watched agnes and minerva in the reflection in the window beside him. so far, they seemed to be getting along politely enough.
“i don’t mean i ever met you before,” the man continued. he took a spoon and squeezed the teabag against the size of his cup with it. “but i still know you. you know what i mean?”
“no.”
“those two dames you are looking at in the glass. you followed them in here, didn’t you?”
tomo laughed in the man’s face. “what if i did?”
“some people might think you are up to no good.”
“they might if i did not work for one of them.”
for the first time the shabby man looked a little unsure of himself.
“i’m a chauffeur,” tomo said. “not that it is any of your business.”
“you’re not wearing a uniform.”
tomo did not bother to answer.
“yeah,” the man said, recovering himself. “you kind of look like a chauffeur.”
“you kind of look like a lowlife crumbbum who does not know what is good for him.”
the shabby man laughed. “yeah, you got me there.” he took a sip of his tea. “which one do you work for - the blonde or the younger one?”
“it’s no concern of yours.”
“let me tell you a story,” the shabby man laughed. “you like stories?”
“it depends.” tomo had had more than enough of the man, but did not want to call any kind of attention to the two of them.
“i never saw you before, but the younger dame - she reminds me of someone. looks like someone i had what you might call a strange encounter with a few years back.”
tomo did not bother to answer, but the man continued. “a few years ago i was walking down broadway, and this rich dame that looked just like her - not her, she’s too young , but could have been her sister - comes up to me and what do you think she wants?”
“i could never guess.”
the shabby man lowered his voice. “she wanted me to kill her husband! she was going to pay me to kill her husband and gave me a down payment. ain’t that something? what do you think of that?”
“and did you kill the husband?” tomo asked in a normal tone of voice.
“no, it didn’t work out. i was supposed to meet up with her to get the details, but she never showed.”
tomo snickered. “how sad.”
“but that ain’t the end of the story - not by a long shot. because a few days later, i pick up a paper somewhere, and what do you think? there was a picture of the dame in it, and she had been killed herself! over in brooklyn, i think it was. but that still ain’t the end. because a while after that - a couple of months maybe - i pick up another paper and there she is again, and now they are saying maybe she’s not dead after all. all very mysterious.”
“life is mysterious,” tomo replied.
“and that younger dame over there, i swear she looks just like her.”
“yes, people look alike sometimes.”
the shabby man seemed to have nothing more to say, and tomo did not encourage him, and they fell silent.
36. confidences
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