by Ed McBain
“Did you also know Cass Ridley, who flew the shit up from Mexico?”
“Did you happen to take a bottle of champagne to her apartment?”
“Did you and another fine lady walk her over to the zoo?”
“You and another blond lady?”
“Both of you wearing black?”
“We got a doorman justitching to identify you.”
“Keep blowing, I’m beginning to enjoy it.”
“I wonder how you’ll enjoy your date with the D.A.”
“You’vegot a date with my people,” she said. “But you don’t seem to …”
“We’re dying to meet them,” Carella said.
“Tell us who they are, we’ll go pay them a visit.”
“Maybe they can explain how come you killed Wiggins who killed Hoskins who hired Ridley to fly dope for him.”
“Maybe they can explain how Ridley ended up in that lion’s cage,” Ollie said.
“No ID on her,” Carella said.
“Maybe your people can explain all that.”
“Maybe my people can have you both walking beats tomorrow morning.”
“Oooo,” Carella said. “A threat, Ollie.”
“Oooo,” Ollie said.
There was nothing he liked better than a perp trying to pull rank. Especially when the perp had tried to gun down a cop.
“You think these important people you know’ll come riding to the rescue, is that it?” he said.
“You don’t know what you’re messing with here.”
“Gee, I thought we were messing with an Attempted Murder One and a pair of Murder Twos.”
“You’d never make it to trial. They’ll step on you like a bug.”
“Who? Your important people in high places?”
The blonde smiled.
Ollie just loved it when they smiled.
“If your friends take you out of here, they’ll be harboring a fugitive,” he said. “That’s called Hindering Prosecution in the first degree, Section 205.65 of the Penal Law. Want to hear it?”
“Shove it up your ass,” the blonde said.
“Nice talk on the lady,” Ollie said. “Hindering prosecution is rendering criminal assistance to a person who’s committed a class-A felony. Murder Two is a class-A felony. So’s Attempted Murder One. If your friends whisk you out of here, they’ll be staring at a seven-year max in the slammer. Maybe that’s why they’re not here yet, huh?”
“All in good time,” the blonde said.
“Oh sure, I hear them thundering down the hallway right this minute.”
The blonde actually cocked her head toward the door.
“But maybe not,” Ollie said. “Ballistics is checking the slugs that killed the two dealers. If they match the ones we test-fire from that cannon you were carrying …”
“Save it. I’m not interested.”
“Well, let me tell you what else we’ve got,” Carella said. “It might change your mind.”
“I got shot last night. I’m tired. Goodbye, Mr. Detective.”
“We’ve got one of the guys you killed wearing a wire. We’ve got the other guy you killedtalking on that wire. Saying a lot of interesting things about a company called Wadsworth and Dodds, ever hear of them?”
“No.”
“W&D?”
“No.”
“Witches and Dragons?” Carella said. “Is that a glimmer I see in your eye? How about Mother? Do you know who Mother is?”
The blonde said nothing.
“Ever see that name on a W&D computer?”
The blonde was still silent.
“Ever hear that name anyplace?”
“Why don’t you go home, Mr. Detective?”
“People keep telling me to go home,” Carella said to Ollie.
“Maybe you should,” Ollie said.
“Yeah, but gee, I’d like to finish this, you know?”
“So finish it.”
“Here’s where we’re coming from, Miss,” Carella said, turning back to the bed. “A person is guilty of Murder in the First Degree when the intended victim is a police officer who at the time of the killing is engaged in the course of performing his official duties, quote, unquote, Section 125.27 of the state’s Penal Law. You tried to kill a police officer last night, honey.Me. Would have killed me, in fact, if another police officer—Detective Oliver Wendell Weeks here—hadn’t expediently intervened. That makes the crimeAttempt to Commit Murder, which in this case is an A-1 felony. Add to that theactualmurders of both Tito Alberico Gomez and Walter Kennedy Wiggins, and you’re looking at twenty-five years to life, three times over. That comes to seventy-five years in the slammer. You’ll be a hundred years old when you get out.”
“A hundred and five,” the blonde said.
“That’s if we don’t get a positive ID from the doorman.”
“What doorman?”
“The one who let you in Cass Ridley’s apartment building. Where you stuck an ice pick in her forehead. You can add another twenty-five for that one.”
“You think so?I think I’ll be out of here before you jerks leave the building.”
“You got shot when?” Ollie said. “Seven, seven-thirty last night? You know what time it is now? Almost one o’clock the next day. Has anyone been here to see you? Has anyone even called you? Where’s the cavalry, sweetheart? They’re riding into the sunset, that’s where they are, and leaving you to take the fall. But, hey, be loyal. Seventy-five years behind bars may seem better to you than anything we’ve got to offer.”
The blonde was looking at him.
Ollie figured he had her attention.
“Want to hear it?”
“No. I want to go to sleep.”
“Okay, go to sleep. I guess we’ll have to charge her on all three counts, Steve.”
“Maybe four if we get lucky with the doorman,” Carella said. “Too bad she can’t help us get our search warrant, huh?”
“A crying shame,” Ollie said.
“Well, what are you gonna do?” Carella said, and shrugged. “Let’s go home.”
“So long, Miss,” Ollie said, and both detectives started out of the room.
“What do you mean?” the blonde asked.
They turned back to the bed.
“About a search warrant?” she said.
“Let me be honest with you, okay?” Ollie said, which was the last thing he wished to be with her. “We know you won’t admit you’re a hitter for W&D because that would make this Murder for Hire, and that means the Valium cocktail if you’re convicted.”
“The death penalty,” Carella explained. “Lethal injection.”
“I hear it’s actually pleasant,” Ollie said, and smiled. “But we know you won’t admit that somebodypaid you for offing the redhead and the two Negroes, so all we’ve really got for sure are the pair of Twos and the One-Ten. Which is enough to put you away for seventy-five, I might remind you, ah yes, if that’s the route you choose to take.”
“Or,” Carella said.
“Or,” Ollie agreed, and nodded.
“Orwhat?Let me hear it.”
“To the point, I like that in a woman,” Ollie said. “Do you know what’s on any of the W&D computers?”
“Let’s say Ican know what’s on them if Ineed to know what’s on them.”
“Let’s say youneed to know what’s on them if you want to deal here,” Ollie said.
“But of course we can’t speak for the D.A.,” Carella said.
“Of course not. Butif the lady wants to deal, she would have to tell us she knows what’s on those computers.”
“You’re both so full of shit,” she said. “Tell me what you want me to say.”
“We want you to say that evidence of a crime exists on W&D’s computers.”
“What crime?”
“From what we understand, the Criminal Sale of Controlled Substances.”
“In the first degree,” Carella said.
“Section 220.43.”
&
nbsp; “An A-1 felony.”
“Twenty-five to life upstate.”
“Heavy,” Carella said.
“That’s the crime,” Ollie said. “From what we understand.”
“And how do you happen to understand this?”
“A good question,” Ollie said. “We’ve got a tape, remember?”
“We want you to listen to that tape,” Carella said.
“Tell us it’s accurate …”
“… so we can get a search warrant on probable cause.”
“Reliable information from a cooperative witness and all that,” Ollie said.
“IfI cooperate,” the blonde said.
“Well, that’s entirely up to you, m’little chickadee, ah yes.”
“What do I get in return?”
“We’ll drop the One-Ten,” Ollie said. “That okay with you, Steve? I mean, you’re the one she tried to kill.”
“That’s fine with me, if it’s okay with the D.A.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not fine with me,” the blonde said.
“Then you tell us.”
“Drop everything.”
“We can’t do that.”
“Oh, yes you can. I walk, you get the big boys.”
“Well, maybe we can reduce the murder counts to manslaughter.”
“Well, maybe I don’t think that’s good enough, either, okay?”
“Two counts of Manslaughter One? That’svery good,” Ollie said. “And we’ll drop the Attempted, don’t forget.”
“Sorry, boys.”
“Somewhere between five and twenty-five on each?” Carella said. “That’s a good deal. Don’t you think that’s a good deal, Ollie?”
“I do indeed. What do you say, Miss?”
“I say I want five, not twenty-five.”
Carella pretended to be thinking this over. He looked at Ollie. Ollie sighed.
“Okay, five,” Carella said.
“And you run the sentences concurrently,” the blonde said.
“No, we can’t do that,” Carella said. “That’d come to only two and a half on each hit.”
“Come on, honey, be realistic,” Ollie said.
“The guys who got whacked were a pair of shits,” the blonde said. “I did society a favor.”
“Still, just fiveconcurrently?” Carella said.
“For adouble hit?” Ollie said.
“That’s all they’re worth,” the blonde said.
“Let me call the D.A.,” Carella said. “Play the tape for her, Ollie.”
12 .
THEY INTERROGATED RICHARD HALLOWAY at ten minutes to five that Saturday afternoon. He was wearing gray flannel slacks, a blue blazer, a blue button-down shirt, and a green bow tie printed with little red prancing deer. He had waived his right to an attorney, and so there were only four people in the interrogation room—Halloway himself, Detectives Carella and Weeks, and Detective-Lieutenant Byrnes—all of them sitting around the long cigarette-scarred table, drinking coffee. Halloway seemed completely relaxed and supremely self-assured.
“Mr. Halloway,” Carella said, “when we entered the offices of Wadsworth and Dodds this afternoon at three-thirty, were you packing to move?”
“Is it a crime to move one’s offices?” Halloway asked.
“Only if you’re moving to conceal evidence of a crime.”
“I see. And what crime was I supposed to have been concealing?”
“We have a warrant to open your computers, Mr. Halloway.”
“So open them,” Halloway said, and smiled, and added, “If you can.”
“Oh, we will.”
“Good luck.”
“We think we might find some interesting stuff on your database.”
“If you find sales figures interesting.”
“Tell me about that database, okay?”
“Sure. Which book?”
“A folder called Witches and Dragons.”
“I’m not familiar with that title. How aboutDiagnostic and Statistical Manual of…?”
“How about a file named Diana?”
“Don’t know that title, either.”
“Or Em. Interesting file, Em. Seems to list all the drug deals your firm has made in Mexico over the past two years. Dates, locations, number of kilos, purchase prices, etcetera, etcetera, the whole megillah.”
“I’m more familiar withPractical Classroom Chemistry by Guthrie Frane. I know we have a file on that.”
“Do you have a file called Nettie?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“The Feds might be interested in that one. We think Nettie stands for ‘counterfeiting.’ We think you’ve been buying counterfeit money in Iran and using it to finance your various drug transactions.”
“My, my, all this crime in such a small publishing house.”
“We think your database will provide evidence of those crimes. And other interesting activities.”
“Assuming, of course, that you can get into our computers.”
“I think we can.”
“Well, you can certainly try.”
“Our nerds are very determined.”
“I’m sure they are,” Halloway said, and finished his coffee, and stood up, and smiled. “Well, I have things to do,” he said, “as I’m sure you do, too. So let’s not waste any more time here, hmm? I know you believe…”
“You’re under arrest here, Mr. Halloway,” Byrnes said. “Please don’t forget that.”
“Perhapsyoushould forget exactly that,” Halloway said. “Believe me, you’re not going to pick up any marbles this time. Not this time, boys. So, if there’s nothing further…”
“Sit down,” Byrnes said.
Halloway smiled. But he sat.
“We’re charging you with the criminal sale of controlled substances in the first degree,” Byrnes said. “That’s Section 220.43 of the Penal Law, an A-1 felony punishable by a term of twenty-five years to life. We’ve got twenty-four hours to arraign you before McNabb-Mallory kicks in. That means you’ll be before a criminal court judge early tomorrow morning. We’ll ask for sky-high bail, you’re an international drug dealer. If he goes along with that, we’ll have six days to crack your goddamn computers and present our case to a grand jury. Any questions?”
Halloway was still smiling.
“Let me give you some advice,” he said. “You should have listened to the Secret Service when they told you to back off, but you didn’t. So here we are, at an awkward juncture that could have been avoided. I certainly shouldn’t be here, but neither should you. Which is why I’m suggesting you listen to me now.” He looked at his watch. “When I walk out of here in five minutes, you will forget you ever saw me, you will forget a woman named Cass Ridley met a horrible fate in the zoo’s Lion Habitat, you will forget …”
“What are you, a hypnotist?” Ollie said.
“Allow me to finish, Detective Weeks. I am advising you to put all of this behind you. Forget Jerry Hoskins was murdered, forget that two black drug dealers in Diamondback were subsequently killed, forget everything that’s happened since December twenty-third, forget you ever wokeup that morning. There are bad people in this world, boys. Pursuing this any further …”
“People like you,” Carella said, nodding.
“No, you’ve got it backwards. I’m one of thegood guys. I’m talking about people who areterrorists. People who consider us the Great Satan. People who wish us nothing but harm. These people all believe in the same cause. And that cause is to drive Americans out of the Arab world.”
His tone had changed all at once, his voice sounding suddenly portentous and, to tell the truth, somewhat frightening.
“There’s a vast network of individual terrorist cells out there,” he said, “take my word for it. Three or four dedicated individuals in each cell, that’s all it takes to do considerable mischief. Anonymous littlegangs,if you will, who get their orders and their financing from the top, and then use their own judgment in executing those orders. Makes it en
ormously difficult to zero in on them, no less stop them. Why do you think those two men who bombed theCole still can’t be traced back to bin Laden? Why do you think …?”