“When is this supposed to happen?”
“I don’t know. I only know what I heard
“Do you know
“No, that’s all they call him.”
“How about Shooter?”
The girl shook her head. “I told you the truth about that.”
“Is there anything special about Shooter, the way he looks or dresses or something like that?”
“He’s always wearing this ratty old cap.”
“Is it orange?”
“Yes. Have you seen it?”
“Yes. Do you know where they live? Shooter or Morris or Jack?”
Again the girl shook her head. She looked as though she were failing a test.
“How about Pierre?”
“Where he lives?”
“Yes.”
“Right above the Donut Shop. In that hotel. Don’t you know that?”
Sam felt as if he were failing the same test.
“No. I never knew where he lived. That’s very helpful,
For a moment the girl’s face looked pleased. How had he never gotten that information before? He looked at the torn hotel stationery where he had written one name and wondered what else he didn’t know, what else he had overlooked or not asked, or heard, or seen. He looked at
“I imagine you want to meet with Detective Markowitz now,” Georgia said, reading his mind.
“Yes, and I want Diane to talk to Detective Markowitz, too,” Sam said. “Tomorrow.”
Diane looked at
“We need to do that,”
“Okay,”
Sam stood and was about to walk toward the door, but then the girl stood, too. As she stood with her hands clasped in front of her, she looked like a volunteer who had stepped forward, anticipating that all the others in line would do the same. Instead she found herself alone. He realized how quickly he had meant to pass her by, and he walked around the table and extended his hand.
“Thanks for all your help,
“I’m still scared,” she said.
She held but did not shake the hand he offered.
“I don’t blame you. We’ll make sure you don’t get hurt.”
“That’s what
“I’ll be careful.”
“I know what you think about me.”
“Don’t be so sure what I think,” he said, looking straight back into hers.
It was unusually quiet for a Saturday night. Even
It was too early for the dancing girls to dance with enthusiasm and too late for the Donut Shop.
Although the sun had withdrawn, it remained warm enough to have the car windows down. The music was warming up in the Wild West Tavern. As they slowly passed it on
First Avenue
, she heard false notes ring out through the open door. It was early. The musicians still had time to find their rhythm.
When Radio called their car number,
“Have Murphy call the officer at Main 2-2344,” Radio said.
Mike looked at her to see if she had copied the number.
“Got it,” she said. “That’s a department number. I’ll call from the station.”
Mike acknowledged the message to Radio and logged them out to the station. Then he looked at her again.
“So who is this?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
They were only a few blocks from the station, but it was far enough for
She had not lost interest as she walked into the write-up room and dialed the number. There was only one ring before the answer.
“This is
“
“Hey, Kat. That didn’t take long.”
“We were just a few blocks from the station.”
“Are you in the station now?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Good. Where’s Hennessey?”
“He’s in the coffee room,”
“Why don’t you come up to Homicide.
“What stuff?”
“You’ll see. Come up alone, will you?”
Sam was waiting in the hallway of the fifth floor. The floor was deserted except for a few people behind the counter of the Records Section. He smiled at her, and she felt better seeing his smile. It eased the uneasy feeling she had from his strange telephone call, the secrecy, and
“Welcome to the privileged few,”
Sam slid a report over the desktop in front of her.
She began to read, noticing some words as if they were in bold lettering but which were no more bold than the rest: “CONFIDENTIAL INFORMANT, POLICE OFFICERS, MCDONALD AND FISHER, BELIEVED TO MEET WITH SUSPECT BERNARD, ACCEPT FREE COFFEE.”
Sam took the report from her when she finished and handed her another. All three exchanged looks, but it was clear that nothing would be said until she read the second report. It detailed the drowning of
“I’m not turning these reports in,”
Markowitz nodded.
“I think old
“It’s not the coffee,”
She could see
“It could all be coincidental,”
“Reliable, I think, but I could be wrong. This one is different. Informants always want something, but I can’t figure out what this one wants.”
“See. That’s what I mean,”
“I know. We need more. This girl,
“Drugs. My god, these guys wouldn’t get mixed up in that,”
“But what if they aren’t? I don’t think we should talk to anybody in the department until we know where this is going. I’ve been thinking that maybe we should talk to the Feds instead,”
“Oh sure,”
Katherine watched the two men disagree, or perhaps they agreed but did not like their agreement. This disagreeing agreement made her realize that it might have been better to stay with Hennessey.
“In the meantime,”
“I guess we can do that,”
“What do you think?”
Alberta
, assuming she’s dead?”
“Could be, I guess, but I think that son of a bitch
“What do you think,
“It could be anybody,” she said. “It could even be
That made them sit up, these men who had seen the old days together. She thought they would look at each other and pass along some familiar, evolved level of communication predating her, but they didn’t. They remained silent in all their forms of communication and looked at her instead.
Sam had not meant to oversleep. Now and then he would intentionally avoid setting the alarm and let the telephone wake him in the morning when the sergeant called after roll call. That was an acceptable way to find another hour’s sleep on First Watch, as long as it didn’t happen too often. He had set the alarm, but this morning he didn’t immediately sit up on the edge of the bed as he knew he must. He should have gotten up this morning. Kat would have come to the dock and waited.
By the time he arrived at the station, there was no reason to hurry. He was late enough that a minute here or there didn’t matter. He checked out a radio from the property room and walked down the hall to the office. He stuck his head in the door. “It was a bit cloudy this morning, Sarge,” was all he said. The sergeant checked him off the roll call sheet with a pencil and waved him out. Then with a change of mind the sergeant called him back.
“You still butting into Homicide’s business?”
“You mean
“I’ve been going through the log sheets. The guys are going to start bitching if you’re logged off on that deal all the time.”
“Are they bitching?”
“Not yet, but even the lieutenant was wondering why you were spending so much time on this.”