“What else do you know about it?” I asked.
“Well, until recently, the Bête Noire belonged to Randall Stone. Maryanne was seen with it in public after the divorce so it seems likely that he gave it to her. Say, does this have anything to do with what we talked about earlier? What’s going on, buddy?”
“So it’s hers?”
“Fine. Don’t answer my questions. As far as I know, yes.”
“Do you know if she still has it?”
“I haven’t heard otherwise.”
“Thanks, George. And yes, it’s related to what we talked about earlier.”
“No problem, Nick. Fill me in sometime.”
I hung up the receiver and passed the phone back to the bartender. It paid to have contacts in all levels of society.
I looked around for Tugger but he was no longer at the bar. I scanned the club and after a few moments, saw him sitting at a table, talking with an older woman. I wasn’t able to get his attention so I made my way over to their table.
“Pardon me, ma’am, but I hope you won’t mind if I drag my associate away for a couple of minutes.”