Every Little Crook and Nanny

6: Snitch

Nanny went to see Snitch Delatore early Thursday morning in the hope that he may have heard something about who had stolen little Lewis. The possibility that he had heard anything, since no one ever told him anything, was extremely remote, but Nanny was becoming somewhat desperate. A call from Benny Napkins the night before had apprised her of the difficulties he was having in raising the counterfeit money, an idea that had at first seemed eminently workable. Benny had told her he would get to work on another scheme he had, and that in the meantime she should let him know as soon as the kidnaper called her again. She did not know what Benny’s other scheme was. She was, in fact, beginning to regret she’d contacted him at all.

She was also beginning to regret having contacted Snitch Delatore because conversation with him was proving somewhat difficult. She had been warned time and again never to tell Snitch anything unless she wished it to be re-channeled directly into the Police Department. She was determined not to tell him anything now. But at the same time, Snitch considered himself to be in the business of gathering information, and he was equally determined to get from Nanny whatever she had to offer. So they sat together in the sunshine on a bench in the United Nations Plaza Park, watching the traffic on the East River, and their discussion was, of necessity, a trifle circuitous.

“Tell me again why you came to see me,” Snitch said.

“I wanted to know if you had heard anything,” Nanny said.

“About what?” Snitch said.

“About anything.”

“Well, I’ve heard a lot about a lot of things,” Snitch said, which was an outright lie since he never heard anything about anything. “Which of those things was it you wanted to know about?”

“Well, I won’t know what I want to know until I know what you know,” Nanny said.

“Well,” Snitch said, “if I don’t know what you want to know, how can I know if what I know is what you want?”

Nanny looked out over the river to where a coal barge was sending up great puffs of smoke against the sky. She thought fleetingly of the Thames and of how simple and uncomplicated life had been in London, where she’d had a good position in Mayfair, not as pleasant perhaps as the one at Many Maples, but where a person certainly did not have to deal with types like Snitch.

“What I want to know about,” she said at last, “is a crime.”

“Which crime?” Snitch asked.

“Well, which crimes have you heard about?”

“Which crimes would you like to know about?”

“Whichever ones you’ve heard about.”

“I’ve heard about a lot of them.”

“Which ones?”

“Which ones would particularly interest you?”

“Any that you’ve heard about.”

“Well, there are many crimes being perpetrated in this city,” Snitch said, “and I’m privileged to know about almost each and every one of them. So if you have any specific crime in mind about which you are seeking information, all you need do is mention which crime it is, and I’ll leaf through the catalogue of my mind and stop at the right card. Which crime is it that interests you?”

“Why don’t you leaf through your catalogue aloud?” Nanny said. “When you come to the proper card, I’ll ask you to stop.”

“Nanny, you’re a very nice lady,” Snitch said, “but you’re wasting my time. Unless we can come to some under...”

“Have you any information, for example, about a crime that may have been committed within the past few days?”

“Yesterday, do you mean?”

“Well, yesterday or the day before.”

“By the day before yesterday, do you mean Tuesday?”

“Precisely.”

“You’re seeking information about a crime that was committed Tuesday?”

“Yes.”

“Day or night?”

“Tuesday night.”

“Very well,” Snitch said, “now let’s try to narrow that down, okay? Was this crime a big crime or a small crime?”

“A big crime.”

“Was it bigger than a common misdemeanor?”

“Yes.”

“Bigger than a Class-A misdemeanor?”

“Yes.”

“Am I to take it that this crime was a felony?”

“Yes.”

“Very well,” Snitch said. “Now, as I’m sure you realize, there are felonies and there are felonies. Would this have been a big felony or a small felony?”

“A big one.”

“By a big felony, do you mean a felony punishable by more than twenty years or by less than twenty years?”

“More. I think.”

“In other words, we can be safe in eliminating felonies such as Assault, Forgery, and Grand Larceny, all of which by your definition would be considered small felonies.”

“Yes.”

“We are talking then about felonies such as Armed Robbery or Arson or Homicide or the like.”

“Yes.”

“Would the felony in question happen to be one of those I just mentioned?”

“No, it would not.”

“May I intersperse a question at this point?” Snitch asked.

“Certainly.”

“You have been with Mr. Ganucci for several years now. Why don’t you seek his assistance in getting the information you need about this here crime in question?”

“Mr. Ganucci is in Italy.”

“Cable him,” Snitch said.

“I don’t wish to interrupt his holiday.”

“I’m sure he would be concerned in helping you get to the bottom of whatever...”

“I’m sure he would not be at all concerned,” Nanny said flatly.

Snitch turned to study her face. His eyes narrowed. “Or is this something,” he said slowly and evenly, “that might best not be brought to Mr. Ganucci’s attention?”

“Like what?”

“Like a very large felony committed by one of his fellows, to which Mr. Ganucci is rightfully entitled to a certain share of the profits, and which was committed without neither his sanction nor his knowledge and which might piss him off considerably should he discover about it.”

“No,” Nanny said.

“Nothing like that?” Snitch said, clearly disappointed.

“No.”

Snitch took off his hat and scratched his head. “You’ve got me stumped,” he said.

“You’ve heard nothing?”

“Not about the kind of crime you have in question, if it’s the kind of crime I think it is.”

“I think you’re thinking of the right kind of crime,” Nanny said.

“I’ll have to listen around some more,” Snitch said.

“Then I take it we have nothing further to discuss,” Nanny said.

“Not until I go on the earie again.”

“Thank you,” Nanny said, and rose from the bench. She smoothed her skirt, said, “Good day, Mr. Delatore,” and walked off toward First Avenue.

Watching her as she departed, Snitch wondered what the hell they’d been talking about.