Status Quo Part 3

Fredrick cleared his throat. "Ah, Messieurs, that fifty I turned over you.

I suppose it turned out to be spurious?"

Steve grinned at him. "Afraid so, Fredrick. The department is holding it."

Larry took out his wallet. "However, we have a certain leeway on expenses on this a.s.signment and appreciate your co-operation." He handed two twenties and a ten to the _maitre d'_. Fredrick bowed low, the money disappearing into his clothes magically. "_Merci bien_, monsieur."

At the bar, Steve scowled at his colleague. "Ha!" he said. "Why didn't I think of that first? He'll get down on his knees and b.u.mp his head each time he sees you in the joint from now on."

Larry Woolford waggled a finger at the other. "This is a status conscious town, my boy. Prestige means everything. When I take over my Boss' job, maybe we can swing a transfer and I'll give you a position suitable to your attainments." He pursed his lips judiciously. "Although, come to think of it, that might mean a demotion from the job you're holding now."

"Vodka martini," Steve told the bartender. "Polish vodka, of course."

"Of course, sir."

Larry said, "Same for me."

The bartender left and Steve muttered, "I hate vodka."

"Yeah," Larry said, "But what're you going to do in a place like this, order some weird drink?"

Steve dug into his pocket for money. "We're not going to have to drink them. Here she comes."

She walked with her head held high, hauteur in every step. Ignoring the peasants at the tables she pa.s.sed.

"Holy smokes," Steve grunted. "It's a wonder Fredrick let her in."

She hesitated momentarily before the doorway of the prestige restaurant allowing the pa.s.sers-by to realize she'd just emerged, and then turned to her right to promenade along the shopping street.

Fifty feet below La Calvados, Steve said, "Let's go, Woolford."

One stepped to one elbow, the other to the other. Steve said quietly, "I wonder if we could ask you a few questions?"

Her eyebrows went up, "I _beg_ your pardon!"

Steve sighed and displayed the badge pinned to his wallet, keeping it inconspicuous. "Secret Service, Miss," he murmured.

"Oh, devil," she said. She looked up at Larry Woolford, and then back at Steve.

Steve said, "Among other things, we're in charge of counterfeit money."

She was about five foot four in her heels, had obviously been on a round of beauty shops and had obviously instructed them to glamorize her. It hadn't come off. She still looked as though she'd be more at home as cheerleader of the junior cla.s.s in small town high school. She was honey blond, green-blue of eye, and had that complexion they seldom carry even into the twenties.

"I ... I don't know what you're talking about." Her chin began to tremble.

Larry said gently, "Don't worry. We just want to ask you some questions."

"Well ... like what?" She was going to be blinking back tears in a moment.

At least Larry hoped she'd blink them back. He'd hate to have her start howling here in public.

Larry said, "We think you can be of a.s.sistance to the government, and we'd like your help."

Steve rolled his eyes upward, but turned and waved for a street level cab.

In the cab, Larry said, "Suppose we go over to my office, Steve?"

"O.K. with me," Steve muttered, "but by the looks of the young lady here, I think it's a false alarm from your angle. She's obviously an American.

What's your name, Miss?"

"It's Zusanette. Well, really, Susan."

"Susan what?"

"I ... I'm not sure I want to tell you. I ... I want a lawyer."

"A lawyer!" Steve snorted. "You mean you want the juvenile authorities, don't you?"

"Oh, what a mean thing to say," she sputtered.

In the corridor outside the Boss' suite of offices, Larry said to Steve, "You take Miss ... ah, Zusanette to my office, will you Steve. I'll be there in a minute."

He opened the door to the anteroom and said, "LaVerne, we've got a girl in my office-"

"Why, Larry!"

He glowered at her. "A suspect. I want a complete tape of everything said.

As soon as we're through, have copies made, at least three or four."

"And, who, Mr. Woolford, was your girl Friday last year?"

"This is important, honey. I suppose you've supplied me with a secretary but I haven't even met her yet. Take care of it, will you?"

"Sure enough, Larry."

He followed Steve and the girl to his office.

Once seated, the girl and Steve in the only two extra chairs the cubicle boasted and Larry behind his desk, he looked at her in what he hoped was rea.s.surance. "Just tell us where you got the money, Zusanette."

Steve reached out a hand suddenly and took her bag from her lap. She gasped and s.n.a.t.c.hed at it, but he eluded her and she sat back, her chin trembling again.

Steve came up with a thick sheaf of bills, the top ones, at least, all fifties and tossed them to Larry's desk. He took out a school pa.s.s and read, "Susan Self, Elwood Avenue." He looked up at Larry and said, "That's right off Eastern, near Paterson Park in the Baltimore section of town, isn't it?"

Larry said to her, "Zusanette, I think you'd better tell us where you got all this money."

"I found it," she said defiantly. "You can't do anything to me if I simply found it. Anybody can find money. Finders keepers-"

"But if it's counterfeit," Steve interrupted dryly, "it might also be, finders weepers."