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did. He looked like the kind of person who would, and who’d be happy to tell you about it, at length, if you asked him. I never did.
    He set the contract down and flattened it carefully against the desktop with fingers that were thin and very nicely manicured. Something that might have been a smile flickered briefly on his mouth, but vanished so quickly I couldn’t be sure. “I believe I detect,” he said, nodding to the contract, “the fine Italian hand of Mrs. Mondragón. I particularly admire the stipulation that payment of the fee be contingent only upon the necklace’s recovery, and not upon its return to Atco.”
    â€œThe thing’s going to be confiscated by the police,” I said. “You know that as well as we do. It’s evidence in a homicide. But Atco is the owner of record. You’ll get it back.”
    He raised his left eyebrow, a trick I’ve always envied. “But when? In six months? A year? If the person responsible for the theft is also responsible for the death of this Biddle, and the police manage to apprehend him, then the necklace will be held until after the trial. And Lord knows when that might take place. With appeals and whatnot, do you know how much time a good lawyer can waste? And throughout it all, Atco will be unable to recoup its claim payment. Its money will be lying dormant.”
    â€œMaybe you’ll be lucky,” I said, “and we won’t find the thing. Then all you’ll have to do is raise your rates.”
    Another flicker. “You have, I think, an oversimplified view of how an insurance company operates.”
    â€œProbably. I’m an oversimplified kind of guy.”
    â€œPutting aside,” he said, “just for a moment, the payment of the finder’s fee, let’s discuss the fee itself. I’ve spoken with the Home Office, and in view of the size of this particular claim, they are, of course, quite anxious to retrieve the necklace. They’ve authorized me to make what I think is a very generous offer of five percent of insured value.”
    I doubted very much that he’d spoken to anyone. Romero might work on a weekend, but everyone in the Home Office was probably out bruising tennis balls or down in the basement counting Krugerands. “Well,” I said, “I’ve spoken to Mrs. Mondragón, and in view of the difficulty of this particular case, she’s authorized me to propose a fee of fifteen percent of insured value, plus a retainer of one percent, and naturally, a per diem of one hundred dollars.”
    The smile flickered back to his lips and this time it stayed for a while. “An admirable woman, Mrs. Mondragón.”
    â€œI’ve always thought so.”
    â€œBut you realize, of course, that my hands are tied. I can do nothing without a go-ahead from the Home Office, and I’m afraid they’d never agree to such a proposal. They might very well direct me to contact another detective agency.”
    â€œThey’ve had six months to contact another agency.”
    â€œAh, but that was before Biddle appeared, offering the necklace.”
    â€œBiddle’s dead, and I’m the one he offered the necklace to. Even if you hire another agency, in the end you’ll still be dealing with me.”
    He pursed his lips. “Are you suggesting you know more about its whereabouts than you’ve so far revealed to the police?”
    â€œI’m suggesting the same thing to you that I suggested to Biddle, two days ago. You called me. I didn’t call you.”
    Something new flickered across his lips, something that might have been a frown. He eyed me for a moment. At last, with a small crisp nod, he said, “Perhaps you and I can come to an agreement without my further involving the Home Office. But naturally you understand that a retainer and a per diem are simply out of the question.”
    After that, it was just a matter of horse trading.