“They couldn’t have proved it anyway,” Sammy began.

“You don’t know what they could have proved, and you never know what jurors will decide.” The mild tone was no longer present in Langdon’s voice. He shoved a photograph across the table. “This was taken this afternoon outside the Village hospital. The woman holding the child is Dr. Monica Farrell. Her home and office addresses are printed on the back.”

Before he touched anything, Sammy reached for a crumpled paper napkin, then used it to pick up the photograph. He held it under the dingy lamp at the table. “Beautiful broad,” he commented as he studied it. He turned the photo over and glanced at the addresses, then without being asked, he handed the photograph back to Langdon.

“Okay. I don’t want to have this picture on me if I’m ever stopped by the police. But I’ll take care of everything.”

“See that you do. And quickly.” Langdon shoved the picture back into his jacket pocket. As he and Sammy got up, he reached back into the pocket, took out a billfold, peeled off a twenty-dollar bill, and tossed it on the table. Neither he nor Sammy noticed that the snapshot had caught on the billfold and fluttered to the floor.

“Thanks a lot, mister,” Hank Moss, the young waiter, called as Langdon and Sammy exited through the revolving door. As he picked up the coffee cups, he noticed the picture. Setting down the cups, he ran to the door but neither man was in sight.

They probably don’t need this, Hank thought, but on the other hand the guy did leave a big tip. He turned the picture over and saw the printed addresses, one on East Fourteenth Street, and the other on East Thirty-sixth Street. The one on East Fourteenth had a suite number, the one on East Thirty-sixth, an apartment number. Hank thought of a particular kind of mail that sometimes came to his parents’ home in Brooklyn. Listen, he told himself. Just in case this is important to anyone I’ll drop it in an envelope and address it to “Occupant.” I’ll send it to the suite on Fourteenth Street. That’s probably the office of the guy who dropped it. Then if it’s important, he’s got it, at least.