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official inquiry?”
    “Semi-official. A sheriff’s man named Fleischer came to my office. He wanted to know all about Laurel Smith and all about Davy. I didn’t tell him much. Frankly, I didn’t like him, and he wouldn’t explain why he needed the information.”
    “Have you checked Laurel Smith’s record?”
    “No. It didn’t seem necessary.”
    “I would if I were you. Where did Davy live before he went to jail?”
    “He’d been on his own for a year or more after he dropped out of high school. Living on the beaches in the summer, taking odd jobs in the winter.”
    “Before that?”
    “He lived with foster parents, Mr. and Mrs. Edward Spanner. He took their name.”
    “Can you tell me where to find the Spanners?”
    “They live in West Los Angeles. You can find them in the phone book.”
    “Is Davy still in touch with them?”
    “I don’t know. Ask them yourself.” The waitress brought our checks, and Belsize stood up to go.

chapter 7
    T HE C ENTENNIAL S AVINGS building on Wilshire was a new twelve-story tower sheathed with aluminum and glass. An automatic elevator took me up to Sebastian’s office on the second floor.
    The violet-eyed secretary in the outer room told me that Sebastian was expecting me. “But,” she added in an important tone, “Mr. Stephen Hackett is with him now.”
    “The big boss himself?”
    She frowned and shushed me. “Mr. Hackett came back from lunch with Mr. Sebastian. But he likes to stay incognito. This is just the second time I ever saw him myself.” She sounded as if they were having a visit from royalty.
    I sat on a settee against the wall. The girl got up from her typewriter desk and, to my surprise, came and sat down beside me.
    “Are you a policeman or a doctor or something?”
    “I’m a something.”
    She was offended. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
    “That’s true.”
    She was silent for a time. “I’m concerned about Mr. Sebastian.”
    “So am I. What makes you think I’m a doctor or a cop?”
    “The way he talked about you. He’s very anxious to see you.”
    “Did he say why?”
    “No, but I heard him crying in there this morning.” Sheindicateci the door of the inner office. “Mr. Sebastian is a very cool person in general. But he was actually crying. I went in and asked him if I could help. He said nothing could help, that his daughter was very ill.” She turned and looked deep into my eyes with her ultraviolet ones. “Is that true?”
    “It could be. Do you know Sandy?”
    “I know her to see. What’s the matter with her?”
    I didn’t have to offer a diagnosis. There was a soft scuffling of feet in the inner office. By the time Sebastian had opened the door the girl was back at her desk, looking as permanent as a statue in a niche.
    Stephen Hackett was a well-kept man of forty or so, younger than I expected. His thick body borrowed some grace from his well-tailored tweeds, which looked like Bond Street. His scornful eyes flicked over me as if I was a misplaced piece of furniture. He gave the impression of wearing his money the way other men wear elevator shoes.
    Sebastian clearly hated to see him go, and tried to follow him out to the elevator. Hackett turned at the door and gave him a quick handshake and a definite, “Good-bye. Keep up the good work.”
    Sebastian came back to me with bright dreaming eyes. “That was Mr. Hackett. He likes my program very very much.” He was bragging to the girl as well as me.
    “I knew he would,” she said. “It’s a brilliant program.”
    “Yeah, but you never can tell.”
    He took me into his office and closed the door. It wasn’t large, but it was a corner room overlooking the boulevard and the parking lot. I looked down and saw Stephen Hackett step over the door of a red sports car and drive away.
    “He’s a terrific sportsman,” Sebastian said.
    His hero worship annoyed me. “Is that all he does?”
    “He keeps an eye on his interests, of course. But he