(See Cover)
"Yeah? This is Holden. Yeah, Marty. Hold it a sec." The muscular man with the hard eyes palms the phone. "I'll take those letters now, Miss Moller." The voice is hard, too, even sexy in a nasal way. Holden flips a Parliament into the corner of his mouth. "Marty? Shoot." Miss Moller brings the letters. Holden stands up suddenly and paces the floor, still listening. His brogues gleam richly on the broadloom, his tie is tensed into a merciless Yale knot. "Yeah, boy. Versteh. Versteh." He sits down, props the phone with...
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