5
Jack closed the top drawer of Cordova's receptionist's desk. He now had the fat man's phone numbers—home and cell. Next stop, the filing cabinets.
He leafed through the folders in the top drawer, checking out age and sex of the clients. Some contained photos. Jack pulled out males in their thirties until he had a stack of six. Then he started dialing, pretending to be calling from the electric company.
All of the first batch were home. So he went back to the cabinet. One in the second batch didn't answer. Lee Dobbins. Jack studied his picture and vital statistics. Lee lived and worked in Queens. He'd suspected his business partner in their real estate firm of dealing with the competition. The wad of photos in the file—taken by Cordova, no doubt—had confirmed his suspicions. Jack memorized the salient points, then filed Dobbins back with all the others.
He then turned on the computer. He typed a note and printed it out under the Cordova Investigations Ltd. letterhead. He tri-folded it and stuck it in a pocket.
Hey, Lee Dobbins, Jack thought as he exited the office. You just got yourself a new best buddy. Me.
Jack knew he'd have to tread carefully here. Had to assume that Sister Maggie had told Cordova everything she knew—which wasn't much beyond Julio's and how Jack looked. He'd have to alter his appearance some.
The other possible hitch was Cordova calling to check Jack's story and finding Dobbins home. Jack could finesse that by calling Dobbins just before he met Cordova. If still no answer, he was golden. If he picked up… well… forget finesse then.