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I asked him about the day of the murder.
"My shift ended around noon that day. I went over to Clinton Street and sat in a coffee shop at the counter where I could keep an eye on the place. When she left early I followed her. I was across the street watching her building when a man went into it. I knew him, Id seen him with her before. "
"Was he black?"
"Black? No. Why?"
"No reason. "
"I dont remember what he looked like. He was with her for a half-hour or so. Then he left. I waited a little while longer, and something told me, I dont know, I just knew this was the right time. I went up and knocked on her door. "
"And she let you in?"
"I showed her my shield. And I reminded her that she knew me from the day-care center, that I was Dannys father. She let me in. "
"And?"
"I dont want to talk about it. "
"Are you sure of that?"
I guess he thought it over. Then he said, "We were in the kitchen. She was making me a cup of coffee, she had her back to me, and I put one hand over her mouth and jabbed the icepick into her chest. I wanted to get her heart right away, I didnt want her to suffer. I kept stabbing her in the heart and she collapsed in my arms and I let her fall to the floor. " He raised his liquid brown eyes to mine. "I think she was dead right then," he said. "I think she died right away. "
"And you went on stabbing her. "
"When I thought about it before I did it, I always went crazy and stabbed over and over like a maniac. I had that picture in my mind. But I couldnt do it that way. I had to make myself stab her and I was sick, I thought I was going to throw up, and I had to keep on sticking that icepick into her body and-" He broke off, gasping for breath. His face was drawn and his pale complexion was ghostly.
"Its all right," I said.
"Oh, God. "
"Take it easy, Burt. "
"God, God. "
"You only stabbed one of her eyes. "
"It was so hard," he said. "Her eyes were wide open. I knew she was dead, I knew she couldnt see anything, but those eyes were just staring at me. I had the hardest time making myself stab her in the eye. I did it once and then I just couldnt do it again. I tried but I just couldnt do it again. "
"And then?"
"I left. No one saw me leave. I just left the building and walked away. I put the icepick down a sewer. I thought, I did it, I killed her and I got away with it, but I didnt feel as though I got away with anything. I felt sick to my stomach. I thought about what I had done and I couldnt believe Id really done it. When the story was on television and in the papers I couldnt believe it. I thought that someone else must have done it. "
"And you didnt kill your wife. "
He shook his head. "I knew I could never do something like that again. You know something? Ive thought about all of it, over and over, and I think I was out of my mind. In fact Im sure of it. Something about seeing Mrs. Potowski, those pools of blood in her eyes, those stab wounds all over her body, it did something to me. It made me crazy, and I went on being crazy until Barbara Ettinger was dead. Then I was all right again, but she was dead.
"All of a sudden certain things were clear. I couldnt stay married anymore, and for the first time I realized I didnt have to. I could leave my wife and Danny. I had thought that would be a horrible thing to do, but here Id been planning on killing her, and now Id actually killed somebody and I knew how much more horrible that was than anything else I could possibly do to her, like leaving. "
I led him through it again, went over a few points. He finished his beer but didnt get another. I wanted a drink, but I didnt want beer and I didnt want to drink with him. I didnt hate him. I dont know exactly what I felt for him. But I didnt want to drink with him.
HE broke a silence to say, "Nobody can prove any of this. It doesnt matter what I told you. There are no witnesses and theres no evidence. "
"People could have seen you in the neighborhood. "
"And still remember nine years later? And remember what day it was?"
He was right, of course. I couldnt imagine a District Attorney whod even try for an indictment. There was nothing to make a case out of.
I said, "Why dont you put a coat on, Burt. "
"What for?"
"Well go down to the Eighteenth Precinct and talk to a cop named Fitzroy. You can tell him what you told me. "
"Thatd be pretty stupid, wouldnt it?"
"Why?"
"All I have to do is keep on the way Ive been. All I have to do is keep my mouth shut. Nobody can prove anything. They couldnt even try to prove anything. "
"Thats probably true. "
"And you want me to confess. "
"Thats right. "
His expression was childlike. "Why?"
To tie off the ends, I thought. To make it neat. To show Frank Fitzroy that he was right when he said I just might solve the case.
What I said was, "Youll feel better. "
"Thats a laugh. "
"How do you feel now, Burt?"
"How do I feel?" He considered the question. Then, as if surprised by his answer, "I feel okay. "
"Better than when I got here?"
"Yeah. "
"Better than youve felt since Sunday?"
"I suppose so. "
"You never told anybody, did you?"
"Of course not. "
"Not a single person in nine years. You probably didnt think about it much, but there were times when you couldnt help thinking about it, and you never told anybody. "
"So?"
"Thats a long time to carry it. "
"God. "
"I dont know what theyll do with you, Burt. You may not do any time. Once I talked a murderer into killing himself, and he did it, and I wouldnt do that again. And another time I talked a murderer into confessing because I convinced him he would probably kill himself if he didnt confess first. I dont think youd do that I think youve lived with this for nine years and maybe you could go on living with it. But do you really want to? Wouldnt you rather let go of it?"
"God," he said. He put his head in his hands. "Im all mixed up," he said.
"Youll be all right. "
"Theyll put my picture in the papers. Itll be on the news. Whats that going to make it like for Danny?"
"Youve got to worry about yourself first. "
"Ill lose my job," he said. "Whatll happen to me?"
I didnt answer that one. I didnt have an answer.
"Okay," he said suddenly.
"Ready to go?"
"I guess. "
On the way downtown he said, "I think I knew Sunday. I knew youd keep poking at it until you found out I did it. I had an urge to tell you right then. "
"I got lucky. A couple of coincidences put me on St. Marks Place and I thought of you and had nothing better to do than see the house where you used to live. But the numbers stopped at One-three-two. "
"If it wasnt that coincidence there would have been another one. It was all set from the minute you walked into my apartment. Maybe earlier than that. Maybe it was a sure thing from the minute I killed her. Some people get away with murder but I guess Im not one of them. "
"Nobody gets away with it. Some people just dont get caught. "
"Isnt that the same thing?"
"You didnt get caught for nine years, Burt. What were you getting away with?"
"Oh," he said. "I get it. "
AND just before we got to the One-Eight I said, "Theres something I dont understand. Why did you think it would be easier to kill your wife than to leave her? You said several times that it would be such a terrible thing to leave a woman like her, that it would be a contemptible act, but men and women leave each other all the time. You couldnt have been worried about what your parents would think because you didnt have any family left. What made it such a big deal?"
"Oh," he said. "You dont know. "
"Dont know what?"
; "You havent met her. You didnt go out there this afternoon, did you?"
"No. "
("I never see him… I never see my former husband… I dont see my husband and I dont see the check. Do you see? Do you?")
"The Potowski woman, with her eyes staring up through the blood. When I saw her like that it just hit me so hard I couldnt deal with it. But you wouldnt understand that because you dont know about her. "
("Perhaps he has a phone and perhaps its in the book. You could look it up. I know youll excuse me if I dont offer to look it up for you. ")
The answer was floating out there. I could very nearly reach out and touch it. But my mind wouldnt fasten onto it.
He said, "My wife is blind. "
Chapter 17
It turned out to be a long night, although the trip to Twentieth Street was the least of it. I shared a cab down with Burton Havermeyer. We must have talked about something en route but I cant remember what. I paid for the cab, took Havermeyer to the squad room and introduced him to Frank Fitzroy, and that was pretty much the extent of my contribution. I, after all, was not the arresting officer. I had no official connection with the case and had performed no official function. I didnt have to be around while a stenographer took down Havermeyers statement, nor was I called upon to make a statement of my own.
Fitzroy slipped away long enough to walk me down to the corner and buy me a drink at P. J. Reynolds.
I didnt much want to accept his invitation. I wanted a drink, but I wasnt much more inclined to drink with him than with Havermeyer. I felt closed off from everyone, locked up tight within myself where dead women and blind women couldnt get at me.
The drinks came and we drank them, and he said, "Nice piece of work, Matt. "
"I got lucky. "
"You dont get that kind of luck. You make it. Something got you onto Havermeyer in the first place. "
"More luck. The other two cops from the Six-One were dead. He was odd man in. "
"You could have talked to him on the phone. Something made you go see him. "
"Lack of anything better to do. "
"And then you asked him enough questions so that he told a couple lies that could catch him up further down the line. "
"And I was in the right place at the right time, and the right shop sign caught my eye when the right pair of cops walked in front of me. "
"Oh, shit," he said, and signaled the bartender. "Put yourself down if you want. "
"I just dont think I did anything to earn a field promotion to Chief of Detectives. Thats all. "
The bartender came around. Fitzroy pointed to our glasses and the bartender filled them up again. I let him pay for this round, as he had paid for the first one.
He said, "You wont get any official recognition out of this, Matt. You know that, dont you?"
"Id prefer it that way. "
"What well tell the press is the reopening of the case with the arrest of Pinell made him conscience-stricken, and he turned himself in. He talked it over with you, another ex-cop like himself, and decided to confess. How does that sound?"
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