A Killer in New York City: Thriller

Neal Chadwick

A Killer in New York City

A Cassiopeia Press e-book

© 2013 Digital Edition AlfredBekker/CassiopeiaPress, Lengerich (Westf.), Germany

www.AlfredBekker.de

All rights reserved.

***

WHEN LARRY KOSTLER was driven to his office this morning, he was bad-tempered. There was some trouble in his company and he would have to make some decisions.

But now his thoughts seemed somewhere else. He gazed out of the the window, deep in thought, while his driver, Henson, steered the black limousine through the traffic of New York.

There came a point in life where you asked yourself: What's it all for? And maybe Larry Kostler had come to just that point.

He checked his watch again. He was late. Looking out at the rain. The reason why Larry Kostler was late for the first time in years seemed obvious. The bad weather and the heavy traffic.

But in fact this was not the reason for his delay.

Kostler had briefly seen his notary that morning. This had been one of those things which he hadn't been looking forward to and which he had kept putting off for as long as possible. What the hell!, he thought. At least that's behind me now! And that is the only thing, that counts.

The company wouldn't run away. It would still be there a little later... So he could take the time he needed. Time enough to think it all over. If anyone could afford to run late, he could. It was simple. He was the boss. Shortly the car arrived in front of a large building where the Kostler Holding Company had its offices. The car stopped. Henson get off the car to open the door for his boss.

“Sir?”

"I might need you again in half an hour!" Kostler told him. "So be prepared."

"Yes Sir!"

“See you later.”

“Of course, Sir.”

“I hate it to wait.”

“I know, Sir.”

“I hope so.”

Kostler left the car. The way he moved were a little clumsy. He was almost two stone overweight. This slowed him down. He had to make a little pause for taking breath. He was panting pitifully and his face had turned red by the time he had managed to complete this manoeuvre. Finally he was standing next to his driver.

That was the moment when it happened.

The moment which changed everything for a lot of people.

In fact, it was the last moment in Larry Kostler's Life.

*

KOSTLER COULD HEAR screeching types and car speeding towards them. He turned around automatically. It was a two-seater sports car with tinted windows. This was as much as he managed to see. Everything else was a matter of just a few seconds! One of the windows was lowered slightly and something long was pushed out of it. Just a few inches. Then there was a sudden flash.

It was a muzzle flash without any sound of a shot. Only a mere click of the trigger which almost completely swallowed by the surrounding noises.

Damned!, he thought.

His heart was beating so fast that he was reminded to the fire of machine gun.

One second later, it was a very special sound that made Larry Kostler's blood freeze.

A sound he knew all to well... A bloody ugly sound, even though you could hardly hear it.

Larry Kostler saw a bullet scratching over the roof of his limousine. Right in front of his eyes. Before he realised what really was happening and that the driver of that car was obviously trying to kill him, a second shot was fired.

Then a third.

And a fourth.

Then Kostler saw his driver laying there on the pavement with a small round whole in his head. His eyes were wide open, staring up at the smog-laden sky.

No doubt, he was dead.

Kostler felt paralysed.

Oh no!, he thought.

Then he felt a hellish pain in his left shoulder.

The impact of the first bullet was so heavy, that his even his oversized fat body swung right around. The second bullet hit him at the side and got into his chest. The last thing he felt was dizziness. Everything started to spin around. And then he felt weak. So weak...

His legs gave way and he collapsed. He heard lots of people running over, all talking at once excitedly. Someone screamed hysterically. And then Kostler heard the screeching of those tyres again. That car was evidently speeding away from the scene. Then suddenly everything went silent. And dark. Very, very dark...

For ever.

*

THE DOOR FLEW OPEN and Bount Reiniger strode in. He had already taken his coat off. He was now opening the top button of his shirt and loosening his tie. "Good morning, June", he said, smiling at June March, his blonde assistant.

"Morning, Bount!"

"I know I'm a little late. But this bloody traffic!"

June got up and walked over to blonde Reiniger who had meanwhile dumped his coat someplace.

"You're in luck, Bount.”

"Why's that?"

"You've got a client who's been waiting for you in your office since almost an hour now. I've made her three cups of coffee already. She looks so desperate that she probably would have waited another few hours." Bount shrugged.

"People with an easy life aren't exactly our typical clients, are they?"

Stepping into his office a moment later, Bount could see what June had been talking about. The young woman sitting in the armchair facing him really looked anything but happy. She had expressive green eyes, fine features and her long brown hair tumbled onto her shoulders. She was good-looking. But you could see from the expressions on her face that she was extremely worried. Bount greeted her politely.

"Good morning, Miss..."

"Geraldine Kostler", she said.

Bount shook her hand and tried to smile.

"Pleased to meet you."

"So you are Bount Reiniger, the private detective?"

"That's right", he replied and settled down behind his desk. "But please call me me Bount. And now please tell me what I can do for you, Miss!"

"You may have heard my father's name before – Larry Kostler." Bount racked his brain briefly, but shook his head.

"No, I'm sorry. At least I can't recall right now."

"Larry Kostler of Larry Kostler Holding."

"Although I don't regularly read the business section of the papers... Yes, I have heard  the name of that company before. Okay, what''s the story?"

"Someone tried to kill my father yesterday. It's all over today's papers."

Bount lokked at the copy of the New York Times lying on his desk. He hadn't even unfolded it yet.

"I haven't yet had a chance to have a look at the Times today", he admitted.

"Apparently a car with tinted windows sped it. And then there were shots. His driver, Henson, was killed, but it looks like Dad was the actual target... He's still in intensive care. His condition is still serious."

"Has the police already...?"

"There's no much they can do."

"But..."

"it isn't the first time someone tried too kill Dad, Mr. Reiniger – I mean Bount!"

"Really?"

"No. Recently someone blew up his car. That was three weeks ago. But he was lucky. He had just remembered that he had forgotten something upstairs in the office and got out of the car again to get it. This was when his car blew up."

"It looks much like the work of professionals", Bount remarked.

Geraldine Kostler nodded.

"Yes, that's what the police told me, too"

"Do you have any who might be behind all this?"

"Yes, it's pretty clear."

Bount frowned.

This was rare.

"Maldini. I think he's pulling all the strings!"

Bount whistled.

"Maldini?" He took a deep breath. "If that's the same Maldini that I have an exe on, then your father isn't mixing with the best people, Miss!"

"I know, Bount."

"Have you requested police protection for your father?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"He's got his own guards and security guys!"

"Maldini can buy them with his pretty cash!"

"He could do just the same with a policeman, couldn't he?"

Bount had to agree. "True. But he's in danger. And so are you."

"I'm not easily scared."

"In this case you should be though. Maldini was already a big fish in the criminal underworld while I was still with the New York Police. But we could never prove a thing against him, although everyone knew that he was involved in dirty business . Drugs, weapons, prostitution, protection rackets – he is involved in everything where there'

s big money". Bount landed forward slightly.

"Why was your father involved with Maldini? How come Maldini wants to see him dead? Assuming that it is true what you just told me."

"I don't want to talk about it," Geraldine said "And I don*t think you need to know any details! I just want you to make sure my father stays alive. Nothing more!"

"Why can't the security guys of your company do that?"

"They could. But I don't trust them."

"But you trust me?"

She shrugged.

"Maybe. Well, I had to do something!"

Bount studied her for a moment with his brown eyes.

Then he said: "You should tell me what dealings your father had with Maldini and why he pissed him off so  much!"

She looked uncertain for a moment. Then she shook her head with determination.

"No, she said. "That's out os question!"

"Then I'm sorry, but I can't help you."

"But..."

"I need to know the whole story, if I'm supposed to protect your father. At least roughly. If you just need a man who can handle a gun, then you should go look for someone else!"

Bount stood up. "No, please don't misunderstand me!," Geraldine said hurriedly. "Can I be assured of your discretion?"

"Certainly, I'll be just a priest taking your confessions."

She swallowed hard.

After Geraldine had left, having given her own address as well as that of her Dad's hospital to Miss March, Bount knew that she hadn't told him everything. One thing seemed certain. Larry Kostler hadn't always been the respectable businessman which he appeared to be today.

The mere fact that Kostler had dealings with somebody like Maldini wasn't enough proof for this. Maldini's business spanned both legal and criminal activities, plus everything in between.

But Geraldine told him that it was all about illegal arms deals. Many years ago. Which Kostler had been involved in, but then got out. And this it what Maldini could never forgive him for. You didn't quit his syndicate just like that. Kostler – this hadn't been his name at the time – went into hiding and had started a new life with a new identity. But now – after all these years – Maldini seemed to have sniffed him out...

Reiniger instinctively felt that there was more to it... He couldn't say why, it was just a strong gut feeling. He casually picked up the phone and dialled a number which he knew off by heart.

"Hello?" he said as someone picked up the receiver at the other end.

"Who's that?"

He could hear an unfriendly, stressed male voice at the other end. But it wasn't the voice of the man who he wanted to speak to now.

"This is Bount Reiniger. I'd like to speak to Captain Rogers!"

"I'm sorry, Sir. He's out. Maybe can I help you?"

"When will he be back?"

"No idea. Could be a while. Maybe this afternoon."

Reiniger pulled a face.

"Bye he growled and hung up.

He stood up and left the room to see June.

"I've got a job for you he said.

June smiled from ear to ear.

"Any time, Bount!"

“Find out everything you can about Larry Kostler. That shouldn't be too difficult, after all he's quite well known."

"Okay, Bount. And where are you off to now?"

"A little outing he answered with a grin. He had already grabbed his coat already. It was raining steadily outside.

It was a pretty run down joint. Thick clouds of smoke hovered above the simple tables. A few hookers were sitting around the bar drinking coffee, looking very hung over. It was still too early in the day. Too early to work. Too early for clients.

The thing they officially called a hotel was upstairs. This is were the girls had their rooms. The fat barman who was most likely the bouncer, too, kept the bar open 24 hours. He couldn't afford to miss out on a single cent which some drunkard might want to spend in his place. Bount entered the bar, scanning it quickly. He found what he was looking for at the pool table. A short, almost bald guy was trying a few shots.  He was playing on his own.

"Hi, Brady the private detective greeted the guy as he approached the pool table. Brady looked up and frowned briefly. Then his facial expressions relaxed a little. Finally he grinned from ear to ear.

"Hi, Reiniger. How are you?"

"Thanks, I can't complain. How about yourself?"

"Times are tough for guys like myself!"

"But guys like yourself always find a few short cuts – or am I wrong there?" Bount could bank on the fact that he would meet Brady here at this time of the day. He was a dealer. He dealt with everything which made money. Brady was five sizes smaller than guys of the calibre of Maldini, but ha had one thing in common with them: one half of his business could be glassed as legal, the other was definitely illegal. He also dealt with informations. And this was the reason why Bount paid him an occasional visit...

"I'm sure you didn't turn up here to watch me play pools! Brady said.

"No, you're right there."

"Come on! It's no fun playing alone!"

"No, thank. I haven't got much time."

Brady shot the balls across the table, then he straightened up and placed the cue on the floor.

"Okay...Now, Reiniger! What do you want to know?"

"Maldini... Bount mumbled.

Brady whistled.

"why Maldini?"

"None of our business."

"Okay, but information about Maldini ain't cheap, Reiniger."

"Sure..."

Bount put his hand into his coat pocket and pulled out a few banknotes. He put some of them on the pool table for Brady. Brady grabbed the money, counted it and put it away. But he looked at the remaining banknotes in Bount's hand hungrily.

"What do you want to know about Maldini?"

"Everything. What is he up to at the moment?"

"You were with the police a few years ago, weren't you?"

"Yes, I was..."

"then he can't be an unknown to you, Mister Reiniger!"

"He isn't. But what I want to know is what he is up to at the moment."

"The same as usual. But now he tries real hard to keep his hands clean. There's no blood on his hands, not even dirt. He really makes sure of that. Do you want to know what deals he's involved in at the moment?"

"Yes, that might be useful. Keep your ears to the ground!"

"Okay, I'll call you, Reiniger. Was that all?"

"No, there's something else... something special."

Brady raised his eyebrows.

"Spit it out, Reiniger!"

"Somebody wants to knock off Larry Kostler of Larry Kostler  Holding. He was shot at yesterday. He's in intensive care now..."

"And you think Maldini is behind this."

"Yep."

"That's tricky!"

"I know."

"If Maldini really should be behind all this, he'll be bloody careful to ensure that none will be able to trace any connection to him. He's a true pro, you know."

"Yeah, sure. Still see if you hear anything. Keep your ears to the ground.

"But for this job the cash you just gave me ain't enough!"

Bount laughed and spread out the remaining notes that he was still holding in his hand on the pool table in front of Brady. Then he turned around and walked out.

The weather was still miserable outside. But at least it wasn't pouring any more. The rain had turned into a steady, light drizzle. Bount turned up the collar of his coat and hurried to his corvette. Half an hour later he was in the intensive care unit of the hospital that Geraldine had indicated. Seeing her tear-stained face, he knew what had happened. It wasn't hard to guess...

Bount put his arm around her shoulder and offered her his handkerchief.

"He's dead she whispered. "Dad is dead!" The doctor said that he died from his injuries. There's nothing more they could do..."

"I'm so sorry, Geraldine!"

She raised her eyes and looked at Bount intently. "Now it's become a murder case, right?"

Bount nodded.

"Yes."

" I want you to find the person who killed my father, no matter how much it costs!"

"I'll do my best, Miss."

"Yes, please do, Bount!"

"Did you arrive with the taxi which is waiting out there?"

"Yes."

"Would you like me to take you home?"

For about two seconds she seemed uncertain, weighing it up. But finally she nodded.

"Yes."

Her thought seemed to be somewhere completely different. Miles away...

They drove through the heavy traffic and the rain. Both seemed to have increased again within the past half hour. They barely spoke.

Geraldine lived in her Dad's villa, out on Long Island. And that's exactly where they were heading to now. Maybe it would be worth having a look around out there... maybe he'd find a clue... a tiny clue...

If Maldini really was responsible for this murder, the hard part would be to prove that.

It was highly unlikely that they would catch the guy who had pulled the trigger. Not in a hundred years! He had probably gone underground and had disappeared.

And some time, some place he would appear again out of the blue to kill another person for a client... But maybe they would be lucky. Maybe the killer was someone who worked for Maldini's own guys. In that case there may be a track which might still be fresh. And maybe he'd find something in Larry Kostler's house... somewhere amongst his documents, his diaries, his personal notes, somewhere... something pointing to Maldini.

As the Corvette cruised along, Bount glanced over at Geraldine who was sitting next to him on the passenger seat. She was starring out of the window with a distant expression on her face. Straight into the bleak rain.

And that's probably also what she felt like inside: bleak. Bount could feel for her. Maybe it was time to distract her a little.

"Has the police questioned you yet, Miss? he asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

"Yes, briefly. Just now in the hospital. The guy disappeared before you turned up, Bount..."

"And?"

"The guy did not raise my hopes. He told me these things happened every day in New York. Somebody gets shot on the street, in broad daylight and nobody ever finds out who the killer was and who had paid him. Gang shootings, people running amok, psychopaths, professional killers... He told me all sorts of things."

"What was the man's name?"

"Marvin, I think. Do you know him, Bount?"

"No."

"In any case he didn't seem particularly bright."

"Would you mind if I had a look around your Dad's things, Miss?"

"No. But what are you hoping to find?"

He shrugged.

"You never know!"

Bount could tell immediately that Kostler's villa was well secured. It was the house of a man who must have lived in constant fear of receiving unwelcome visitors one day. A high wall surrounded the property and a guard opened the gate for Bount's Corvette, after Geraldine had identified herself at the intercom. A massive iron gate slid open and Bount drove the car right up to the house which was surrounded by an extensive garden. Bount looked around briefly and noticed the video cameras which were used to survey the property. Somewhere a dog barked. It sounded aggressive and certainly not like a lap dog.

"Come on, Bount Geraldine said, opening the car door. They both got out, slamming the doors shut. They walked up a few steps which lead to a large entrance. A moment later they were inside. A maid welcome them at the door. As they entered the large living room, Geraldine denly froze.

There was a ma lying on the couch.

He was stretched out and had taken his shoes off. They were scattered on the carpet. There were several liquor bottles on the table. By the look of them they were anything but cheap.

"Brian! Geraldine Kostler exclaimed surprised. Bount raised his eyebrows and waited. Geraldine walk over to Brian who was in the process of sitting up with difficulty. He still held a glass in his right hand. He belched loudly. He had obviously had a few drinks too many.

“Hi, Geraldine," he mumbled. "How are ya?"

She looked anything but pleased.

"When did you arrive, Brian? she asked in a rather reserved tone of voice.

"A few hours ago..."

"What do you want here? Money?"

" I heard about Dad and..."

"Well, you haven't been to the hospital yet, that's for sure!"

She had become stony-faced and her last words must have felt like a slap in the face for Brian.

But he merely shrugged indifferently.

"So what? I thought I'd come here first!"

"Meanwhile father has died!"

First these news did not lead to any visible reaction at all on Brian's part. Then he merely shrugged again. Geraldine turned to Bount.

"This is Brian Kostler – my honourable brother!"

Bount nodded his head towards Brian who raised his glass.

"Nice to meet you!" he bellowed and got up off the couch. He was very wobbly on his feet. "Maybe you'd be kind enough to tell me who you've brought home there, sweet sis! A lover maybe?"

"You're crude, Brian!"

"It was just an innocent question!"

"This is Bount Reiniger. He is a private detective. I have hired him to find out who killed Dad."

Brian Kostler grimaced.

Then he mumbled: "But that's crystal clear! Maldini got him in the end. It was just a matter of time anyways." He belched again.

"That's an assumption", said Bount. "No more."

"Sure, I understand", Brian answered. "You want to earn money, too. I can sympathise with that. Truly! And the old man wasn't poor. So you can probably charge a hefty fee!" He turned to Geraldine. " I hope you know what you're doing, sister!"

" I know perfectly well what I am doing!", Geraldine said angrily. Brian turned away. Took one of the bottles from the table and left the room. Somewhere in the distance they could hear him drag himself upstairs.

"You never mentioned your brother to me, Miss", Bount said.

"Well you never asked!"

"One-nil for you, Geraldine! It seems to me that your relationship with him seems a little fraught, am I right?"

She took a deep breath.

"Brian has few problems." She pointed at the bottles and Bount understood what she meant.

"That's pretty obvious", he responded.

"He drinks too much, is more than thirty years of age and has always only lived off the money that Dad sent him."

"He doesn't live in New York, does he?"

"No, he lives in San Francisco. He went to college there – or better said: he claimed that that's what he was doing there! I'm surprised that he had enough money to afford a flight from Frisco to New York."

"We should hurry up now, Miss!" Bount suggested.

"Hurry up?"

"Yes. We need to look through your father's things. Before the police turn up here and create chaos..."

"Do you think they'll still turn up?"

"It's a miracle they haven't turned up yet! They're probably having a look at the offices of Larry Kostler Holding first."

Rummaging through the personal belongings os Larry Kostler didn't provide any substantial, new clues. They were about to give up when they came across a strange letter. Geraldine found it in one of her father's blazers. The individual letters had been cut out of newspapers and magazines and had been stuck together onto a sheet of white paper to read:

FOUND YOU AT LAST, YOU BASTARD!

YOUR LIFE IS NO LONGER WAORTH A CENT!

Geraldine gave the piece of paper to Bount who read the couple of lines carefully.

"That could be Maldini, right?", Geraldine suggested.

Bount nodded.

"Yes, it all fits together..."

As Bount and Geraldine returned to the living room, the doorbell rang. The maid opened the door.

Shortly afterwards she led two men into the living room. One of them was wearing a police uniform, the other was plainclothed. But, wow, what eccentric plain clothes! Bount couldn't help but smile. The man was wearing a huge Stetson and a short brown jacket, blue jeans and cowboys boots. He looked as though he had jumped straight out of a western.

Merely the Rolex he was wearing spoilt this image a little. He took out his badge and showed it to Bount and Geraldine.

"Marvin, Criminal Investigation Department", he grunted.

He had a terrible accent.

Maybe Texas, maybe New Mexico – Bount wasn't too sure. In any case he had surely been born and bred somewhere way down south. Marvin fished a piece of paper out of his pocket and stuck it under Geraldine's nose. Bount didn't even need to look at it. He knew what it was. He had seen these things so often before! Bount smiled thinly while Marvin tried to look very important, building himself up in front of them, legs apart. He turned to Geraldine.

"We've got a search warrant, Miss Kostler. I am sure you won't create any problems for us!"

His tone of voice was quite sharp and Geraldine Kostler seemed partially overwhelmed and partially confused.

"No. Of course bot. Why should I?", she said, raising her eyebrows.

Marvin shrugged.

"Weel, you never know, do you?" Turning to Bount he demanded: "May I ask who you are and what you're doing here?"

But didn't particularly like the bossy attitude of the guy, but thought that it was probably covering up feelings of great insecurity.

Bount only hoped that it would be possible to cooperate with this cowboy. After all they were both trying to track down the person who had killed Larry Kostler.

Bount introduced himself.

"My name is Reiniger", he said. "I'm a private detective."

"Show me your ID!"

Bount removed it from his pocket and showed it to Marvin who took it with a casual gesture. He took a glance at the document, nodded and returned it to its owner.

"Okay. And what are you doing here?"

"Miss Kostler has hired me to call the murder of her father to account!"

Marvin tilted his huge Stetson back and grimaced. He didn't seem to like the presence of the private eye.

"You don't trust the work of the police?", he growled.

"Charming..."

"Don't take it personally", Bount suggested with a little smile. Marvin made a dismissive gesture.

"Why would I do that?", he commented sarcastically. Of course he was taking it personally, this was blatantly apparent.

"Well then every thing's okay then", Bount mumbled, thinking: This man is much like an aggressive terrier, defending its territory no matter what!

" I think Captain Rogers mentioned your name once or twice, Reiniger..."

"Give him my regards when you see him next!"

"I see him more often than I would like to!" He took a deep breath. "I imagine you've rummaged through everything here."

"Well, that's the way the cookie crumbles if you arrive too late, Mister Marvin!"

"We were at the offices."

" I thought as much."

"Did you find anything which could be of interest for the case? You are aware that retaining evidence is punishable, don't you?"

"Mister Marvin, I suggest we work together!"

Marvin laughed hoarsely.

"And how do you imagine we should do that?"

"Let's strike a deal, Marvin! You tell me what you found in the offices and then I'll see how I can help you in turn!"

"Oh, no, Reiniger. Not like that!"

"okay, as you please. But you could possibly save yourself a heap of time!"

Marvin seemed uncertain.

His eyes became narrow slits. Finally he nodded.

"Fine. You first, Reiniger!"

"No, the other way round!"

"You're a hard nut to crack, Reiniger!"

"Do you want to carry on moaning or do you want to follow your duty and do something useful to help catch a murderer?"

Marvin bared his teeth. Then he sighed audibly.

"You win, Reiniger. But there'll be real trouble if you don't come up with anything!"

"Okay, so what did you find in the offices?"

"We questioned the employees of his company and searched through the offices. Although Koster Holding only has around two dozen employees, it achieves an annual turnover of several hundred million dollars per year. The company also hold large shares in various other companies and partially defines their company policy."

"What type of companies?"

"All sorts. From soap manufactures to electronics. There was obviously trouble in the company. Larry Kostler was dissatisfied with several of his employees and was apparently considering firing them. And then it looks like one of the employees was lining his own pockets... A certain Dickson."

"Yes", Geraldine said suddenly. "That's true! Dad found out that he had been speculating with company money."

"And why didn't your Dad fire this guy Dickson?"

"He wanted to avoid a scandal. The Kostler shares would have plummeted immediately, if news had spread. No, Dad wanted to come to a kind of agreement with him..."

"So, Reiniger. Your turn now!", Marvin demanded.

"What you've just delivered is a bit thin, wouldn't you agree?" Bount took the threat letter they had found and passed it to the detective. "There you go!"

"What's that?"

"Have a proper look at it first before you ask. Miss Kostler found it in one of her father's jackets." Bount turned to Geraldine. "You should tell the gentleman what you know now, Geraldine. Including your suspicion about Maldini..."

"But..."

"Your Dad is dead. Even if he was involved in dirty business in his previous life – it won't harm him anymore now if someone hears about it."

Marvin frowned.

"Did I just hear you mention the name "Maldini" there?"

"Yes, you did", Bount nodded.

"I haven't been in New York long yet. But in the short time that I've been here I've heard this damn name several times!"

Bount shrugged.

"No wonder", he said.

And then Geraldine said her piece. And Marvin's face dropped.

"Dirty business!", he said. He lifted up and continued: "It really looks like Maldini is behind all this... What's your father's name before he changed his identity?"

Geraldine blushed and swallowed hard. But she kept her countenance.

"Gerald Sullivan", she said finally.

*

A LITTLE LATER GERALDINE accompanied Bount to the door.

"What are you going to do now, Bount?"

But Bount didn't answer. Instead he asked he asked: "Where does Mr. Dickson live?"