THIRTY-FOUR
THE LAMARR TOWN library was a two-and-a-half-block walk through the dense Georgia heat from the sandwich shop. By the time I got there my shirt was stuck to my back. The library was a white clapboard building, one story, with a long porch across the front. The porch roof was supported with some disproportionate white pillars. I went in. It was air-conditioned. I breathed for a while and then found an Atlanta phone book and looked up Security South. It had an address on Piedmont Road in Buckhead. Good neighborhood.
It took me two and a half hours to get to Atlanta and another twenty minutes to locate the Security South address on Piedmont in a small shopping center near the corner of East Paces Ferry Road. It was no cooler in Atlanta. When I got out of the car, the heat felt like it could be cut into squares and used to build a wall.
The little shopping center had a bookstore, a Thai restaurant, a hair salon, a place that sold bed linens and bath accessories, and a storefront office with a sign on the front window that read, "Bella's Business Services." The more I looked, the more I didn't see Security South. My best bet seemed to be Bella's, so I went in.
The room was cool and small and empty except for a switchboard, a few office machines, two file cabinets, a desk, a chair, and a woman. The woman was in the chair behind the desk. She was black, with very short hair and good shoulders.
"Bella?" I said.
"Denise," she said. "I bought the place from Bella."
"I'm looking for an outfit called Security South," I said. "Which is listed at this address but does not seem to be here."
"Right here," Denise said.
She was wearing a maroon linen dress with no sleeves and her arms were strong-looking.
"Here?" I said.
"Yes, sir. If you'd like to leave a message, I can have Mr. Delroy call you back."
"This is a mail drop," I said.
"And a phone service. We also do billing."
"Ah hah," I said.
"Ah hah?"
"Detectives say that when we come across a clue."
"Are you a detective?"
"I was beginning to wonder," I said. "I don't suppose you could tell me who their clients are."
"No, sir, I'm sorry," Denise said. "But you can see why we'd have to remain confidential about our customers."
"Sure," I said.
"You really a detective?" she said.
"Yep."
"Atlanta Police?"
"Boston. Private."
"A private eye?" she said. There was delight in her voice. "From Bahston?"
"Hey, do I make fun of your accent?" I said.
She smiled.
"Why, honey," she said, "we don't have no accent down here."
"Sho' 'nuff," I said.
I looked around the office. In the back, behind Denise's desk, was a window that opened onto a parking area. I could see the nose of what might have been a Honda Prelude parked behind the office. I smiled my aluminum-siding-salesman smile.
"While I'm here," I said, "you want me to check your security? I can give you a nice price on a beautiful system."
"No, thank you," she said. "I feel perfectly safe here."
"I meant an alarm system," I said. "Protect the office at night."
"From what? Somebody want to sneak in here and steal paper clips?"
"Well," I said, "I just assumed you had an alarm system. I could update it for you for cost, just cover the expense of my trip here."
"I don't have an alarm system," she said.
"I could put one in," I said. Always a plugger.
"Well, aren't you a hustler," Denise said.
"Well, you can't blame me for trying to salvage something," I said. "I don't find Security South, I don't get paid."
Denise smiled. She looked great when she smiled.
"No, I don't blame you, but I don't want anything you've got to sell."
"You're not the first woman to make that point," I said.
"I'm sure I'm not," Denise said. "You wish to leave a message for Mr. Delroy, I'll see that he gets it."
"Mr. Delroy?"
"Yessir, the CEO. Do you wish to leave a message for someone else?"
"No," I said. "No message."
"Best I can do," she said.
"Me too," I said, and smiled and opened her front door and wedged my way out into the swelter and thence to my car.