The New York Trilogy by Paul Auster Read Free Book Online

or do you have some proof?”
    “A little of both. Two years ago, they were going to let Stillman out. But he wrote Peter a letter, and I showed it to the authorities. They decided he wasn’t ready to be released, after all.”
    “What kind of letter was it?”
    “An insane letter. He called Peter a devil boy and said there would be a day of reckoning.”
    “Do you still have the letter?”
    “No. I gave it to the police two years ago.”
    “A copy?”
    “I’m sorry. Do you think it’s important?”
    “It might be.”
    “I can try to get one for you if you like.”
    “I take it there were no more letters after that one.”
    “No more letters. And now they feel Stillman is ready to be discharged. That’s the official view, in any case, and there’s nothing I can do to stop them. What I think, though, is that Stillman simply learned his lesson. He realized that letters and threats would keep him locked up.”
    “And so you’re still worried.”
    “That’s right.”
    “But you have no precise idea of what Stillman’s plans might be.”
    “Exactly.”
    “What is it you want me to do?”
    “I want you to watch him carefully. I want you to find out what he’s up to. I want you to keep him away from Peter.”
    “In other words, a kind of glorified tail job.”
    “I suppose so.”
    “I think you should understand that I can’t prevent Stillman from coming to this building. What I can do is warn you about it. And I can make it my business to come here with him.”
    “I understand. As long as there’s some protection.”
    “Good. How often do you want me to check in with you?”
    “I’d like you to give me a report every day. Say a telephone call in the evening, around ten or eleven o’clock.”
    “No problem.”
    “Is there anything else?”
    “Just a few more questions. I’m curious, for example, to know how you found out that Stillman will be coming into Grand Central tomorrow evening.”
    “I’ve made it my business to know, Mr. Auster. There’s too much at stake here for me to leave it to chance. And if Stillman isn’t followed from the moment he arrives, he could easily disappear without a trace. I don’t want that to happen.”
    “Which train will he be on?”
    “The six-forty-one, arriving from Poughkeepsie.”
    “I assume you have a photograph of Stillman?”
    “Yes, of course.”
    “There’s also the question of Peter. I’d like to know why you told him about all this in the first place. Wouldn’t it have been better to have kept it quiet?”
    “I wanted to. But Peter happened to be listening in on the other phone when I got the news of his father’s release. There was nothing I could do about it. Peter can be very stubborn, and I’ve learned it’s best not to lie to him.”
    “One last question. Who was it who referred you to me?”
    “Mrs. Saavedra’s husband, Michael. He used to be a policeman, and he did some research. He found out that you were the best man in the city for this kind of thing.”
    “I’m flattered.”
    “From what I’ve seen of you so far, Mr. Auster, I’m sure we’ve found the right man.”
    Quinn took this as his cue to rise. It came as a relief to stretch his legs at last. Things had gone well, far better than he had expected, but his head hurt now, and his body ached with an exhaustion he had not felt in years. If he carried on any longer, he was sure to give himself away.
    “My fee is one hundred dollars a day plus expenses,” he said. “If you could give me something in advance, it would be proof that I’m working for you—which would ensure us a privileged investigator-client relationship. That means everything that passes between us would be in strictest confidence.”
    Virginia Stillman smiled, as if at some secret joke of her own. Or perhaps she was merely responding to the possible double meaning of his last sentence. Like so many of the things that happened to him over the days and weeks that followed, Quinn could not be