"Oh, yes. Bascomb Place. It's so hard to keep good people down there." She went on to explain she had 68 apartments scattered about the city with 22 vacancies. Life was tough. "Terrible, simply terrible," she complained.
"Mr. Cleary?" Dean prodded gently.
"A fine gentleman, most certainly. Never gives me a speck of concern."
Dean wished he'd brought the picture of Jeffrey Byrne that World Wide had recently sent but it remained in the case file at the office. "Could you describe Mr. Cleary?" he asked.
She took her time considering her answer. "He sounded like a handsome looking gentleman, but I really couldn't tell you." Dean looked at her, awaiting an explanation. Mrs. Glass added, "You see, I've never met Mr. Cleary."
Cleary had contacted her by telephone, saying he was looking for a furnished apartment to use when he traveled to the city. She referred him to Bascomb Place and offered to meet him there. He said he was pressed for time and declined. A day later he called again, saying he had driven by the place and was willing to take it, sight unseen. She wouldn't normally have rented on that basis but he sent her three months payment, in cash, and she left a key in an agreed location. Later she went by to meet him, but not only was he not in, he had changed the lock. Mrs. Glass considered complaining but with 22 vacancies she didn't want to antagonize a new tenant and jeopardize a three-month advance.
The original telephone call had come on April sixth. Fred stage-whispered to Dean that the sixth was one of the dates when Byrne was in Scranton. The apartment had been rented the following day-the day of the newspaper subscription. Fred now wore an "I-told-you-so," smile as broad as Mrs. Glass.
"Mr. Cleary mostly comes at night I suspect. There hasn't been any mail for quite awhile but the rent is still paid-for another two months."
Fred mentioned there was no name on the mailbox for apartment C. Mrs. Glass said there had been a name the last time she was there, a couple of weeks ago.
She looked perplexed. "I suppose I'll have to get a locksmith if he doesn't send me the key." Mrs. Glass shook her head. "I'm sorry I wasn't much help to you but I just never met Mr. Cleary...or his friend."
Both men said, in unison, "Friend?"
Mrs. Glass snickered. "Pat Corbin. I'm just guessing, mind you, but I think our Mr. Cleary rented the place so the two of them could have a little rendezvous, if you know what I mean." She patted Fred's knee playfully. "Boys will be boys, you know."