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the poor little bastard dead with his head caved in. But now it was August, and anti-corruption stories were back in fashion.
    “I don’t make the rules, Wendell,” I said. “I just live by them.”
    “But why did Chief Carmichael single you out?” Bixby said as he lit another cigarette. “Everyone was on the take, from the good mayor himself all the way down. Carmichael included.”
    I knew he was working me, and I let him. It was the price I had to pay for letting me bend his ear about Silas Van Dorn. Nothing was ever free with Wendell Bixby. “I didn’t come here to tell my tale of woe,” I said. “I came here for information.”
    Bixby sat back slowly in the booth. “Information? From me? Now, that’s a switch. I can remember when I used to pay you for information.”
    “Times are changing. Or don’t you read the papers?”
    “Touché.” Bixby toasted me with his coffee mug. “What would you like to know?”
    “I came across a name tonight,” I said. “A name I ought to know, but I just can’t place it. I thought you might.” Bixby’s left eye twitched like it always did when a new bit of dirt came his way. “Does it have to do with a case you’re working on?”
    I nodded.
    He flipped the pages in his notebook to a clean page. “A homicide case?”
    I nodded again.
    “Well, in that case…” He began to write, but I grabbed his hand.
    “This stays off the record until I say otherwise. It’s that, or nothing. If this turns out to be something, I’ll get you some kind of exclusive down the road. But for now it stays between us.” I let him pull his hand away. I knew the gossipmonger lived for dirt, whether he could print it or not. He needed secrets the way a junkie needs a fix. I knew I had him hooked and he was too curious to do anything but play along.
    “Fine. What’s this name you can’t quite place?”
    “Van Dorn. Silas Van Dorn. Ring any bells?”
    Bixby’s eyebrows rose slowly. “A chorus of them.”
    I tried not to let him see how important it was to me. “Then sing.”
    “He’s a Van Dorn,” Bixby began, “but, of course, you knew that already. The name would mean something by itself in certain circles. The kinds of circles who pay me very well to keep their names out of my column, although it’s not like they ever do much that’s interesting, anyway.” Bixby cleared his throat and leaned forward on the table. “You see, the Van Dorns are one of those old-time clans that everyone’s heard about somewhere along the line but no one knows much about, except that they’re rich.”
    The history lesson was beginning to bore me. “Beautiful. Let’s skip to Silas Van Dorn.”
    “He comes from a very long line of very old money,” Bixby went on. “One side of the family came over on the Mayflower. The other side goes back to when the Dutch first ran this town. Needless to say, they’re beyond loaded. They’re one of those families that seem to quietly keep getting rich almost out of force of habit. Even in trying times such as these.”
    I didn’t know if I’d just gotten lucky or hit a dead end. I’d known all along that the Van Dorn name didn’t belong anywhere near the register of The Chauncey Arms. Now I knew why. All I had to do was talk to Silas Van Dorn, and maybe this thing would start coming together. “Any idea where I might find this guy?”
    Bixby shook his head. “Quid pro quo, Charlie. I answered your question, now you answer one of mine. Why do you want to know who he is?” Bixby had lived up to his end of the bargain, so it was time for me to live up to mine. Besides, he knew what I’d do to him if he printed any of it. “A girl was found dead in the Chauncey Arms in a room registered in Silas Van Dorn’s name. I know it’s probably not him, but somebody used that name on purpose because it’s the only name in the register I can read plain as day.”
    Bixby blinked hard. The thick glasses made it look like he blinked even harder. “Silas