TRANSVESTIA

apartment.

"Sure," Seivers nodded, still looking over the photographs in detail. Hamilton looked away in disgust. Candy was attractive in a flashy, mobster kind of way, but to droll over her, like Sei- vers, was quite repulsive. She was probably a hustler of some kind, maybe even a hooker, the kind of woman that a man like Bassaglia would choose.

There was a rap on the door that led to a hallway and the back way out of the warehouse. Jim Walsh, Seiver's partner, another portly man, came into the room. He nodded to Bud, shook out his wet raincoat and then threw it onto a packing case. "The judge said OK," said Walsh. "Now we have to figure out a way to get a tap into the apartment.”

Seivers swallowed the last part of his sandwich. "How about the telephone?" he asked in garbled fashion as the food moved about in his mouth.

Walsh shrugged. "You know how cagey the wise guys are on the phones," he said.

"Is Lieutenant Matek back downtown?" asked Bud, think- ing how right Walsh was and how he'd better talk to Matek soon about the way he was organizing the statement.

"No," Jim Walsh was surprised by the question. "He said that you were covering this one for him. He has to attend one of Chief Dwyer's conferences tomorrow." The tone which Walsh used told Hamilton much about how most of the department felt about their new chief and the many varied 'staff conferences' that were a feature of the new organization Dwyer was putting in.

"Did Fred say where he was going?" Bud persisted.

Walsh shook his head. "I presume that he was going home," he said. His canny eyes regarded Bud Hamilton, acting Lieuten- ant, with cool interest. One of Dwyer's first moves had been to change the ranking system of the Department, introducing new classes of detectives and officers. Where previously Hamilton

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