102. Roomies

“I think it would be a fabulous idea for you to tell me what that was all about,” I said to Izzy when he came back out the door fifteen minutes later and we were leaving the building.

“My brother Alfred works for the United States Government,” he said.

“So does our mailman,” I said.

“Alfred is employed by an intelligence service,” came his reply.

“I would have to say that our mailman is not,” I said.

“I have identification that assures anyone in a constabulary function that I am legitimate,” he said.

“A legitimate what?” I asked. “A spy?  For crying out loud!”

“Of course not,” he said as we were getting in the van. “The ID card is pretty impressive, but I’m just a relative of someone who is in the business.”

“The “business?” I asked, still shocked at this turn of events.

“Alfred needs a place for some of his … friends … to stay from time to time. Away from the City.”

“New York?”

“Yes. They’re not in the business themselves, but they are often crucial in one way or another.”

“Crucial?”

“You catch on pretty fast, don’tcha” said Izzy

“Look, Iz, I don’t know …”

“They pay well. They’re used to paying high rents.”

“How much?” I asked.

“A thousand a week is not uncommon,” he replied.

“Are they witnesses or something like that?” I asked.

Izzy gave me an exasperated look.

I laughed, “Do they like beans and rice?”

“Oh,” he said, “food is no problem. It would be trucked in. That’s true for all the safe houses.”