by Ed McBain
'Did the person tell you?'
'No. It just said, "A friend of Mommy's. Did you see the letter?" I remembered then that I did see the letter because Mommy was pretty upset when she got it. I mean, I remembered her opening it, and then looking pretty worried. You know how mothers are. They get worried over letters and things.'
'Sure,' Kling said. 'Did you tell this person you'd seen the letter?'
'Yes.'
'What did the person say?'
Sitting on the couch, Carella began to take notes on the telephone conversation. He used two names: Monica and Suspect. He did not bother to write down Kling's questions. He concentrated only on the telephone-conversation between Monica and the suspect. He listened to every word, and he wrote every word down in his rapid longhand.
SUSPECT: Where did you see the letter, Monica?
MONICA: I don't know. When Mommy got it.
SUSPECT: She mentioned it to you?
MON: No. I saw her reading it.
SUS: She didn't tell you what was in it?
MON: No, she never tells me what's in her letters.
S: Was this letter in a blue envelope?
M: Yes.
S: Are you sure, Monica?
M: Yes. I remember because I said to Mommy, that's a pretty blue.
S: What did Mommy say?
M: She didn't say anything. She was bothered by the letter. You could tell she was bothered.
S: Did she say who it was from?
M: No.
S: Did she guess at it?
M: What do you mean?
S: Did she say anything about it being funny the letter wasn't signed?
M: No.
S: But did she seem to know who it was from?
M: No. Who is this, anyway?
S: A friend of Mommy's. Now think, Monica. What did Mommy do with the letter when she finished reading it?
M: I don't remember.
S: Think!
M : I am thinking. I don't remember. I have to go dress my dolly now.
S: Wait, Monica! Did she put it in her purse?
M: No. She didn't have her purse with her.
S: Where did she put it?
M : I don't know. She went to make a telephone call, I think.
S: Who'd she call?
M: I don't know.
S: The police?
M: I don't know. I know a cop, did you know that? He's a detective and he has a gun and everything.
S: Did you tell this detective about the letter?
M: No. Why should he care about an old letter? He was looking for a little girl who's missing.
S: Did you mention the letter to anyone?
M: No. Who cares about an old letter?
S: Now think, Monica.
M: I'm thinking. What is it?
S: Where's the letter now?
M: I don't know.
S: Is it still in the house?
M: I think so.
S: How do you know?
M: I saw it around some place, I think.
S: Where?
M: Someplace.
S: But where, Monica?
M: I don't remember. I really have to go now. Dolly's lying all naked and everything.
S: Monica, think a minute.
M: Well, what is it because I really have to go. I don't want her to catch cold.
S: She won't catch cold. Where's the letter?
M: I already told you. I don't know. It's some place. Do you have any dolls?
S: No. Think, Monica.
M: For Pete's sake, I am thinking, you know. I'm thinking as hard as I can think. But my dolly…
S: Was it in the living-room?
M: I don't remember.
S: The dining-room?
M: We haven't got a dining-room.
S: Mommy's bedroom?
M: Maybe. Maybe she put it in her desk.
S: Did she?
M: For Pete's sake, how do I know? You sure ask a lot of questions
S: I'm only trying to help Mommy. That letter is very important. Did she put it in her desk?
M: Maybe.
S: Her closet, maybe?
M: Maybe.
S: Would you look?
M: Right now, you mean?
S: Yes.
M: Where do you want me to look?
S: In her desk, and in her closet.
M: Right now, you mean?
S: Yes.
M: I don't want to. Not right now. I have to dress Dolly.
S: When can you look?
M: I don't want to look. I'm not allowed in Mommy's drawers and things. She doesn't allow it. She says it's invasion of privacy, if you know what that means.
S: Well, we don't have to tell her you looked.
M: She'll find out. She'll know the minute she comes back. She's on a vacation, you know.
S: Oh, is she?
M: Sure. Granma told me. She won't be back for a while.
S: I see. Well, if she's gone, then she won't know you looked through her drawers and things, will she?
M: Oh, she'll know, all right. Mommy always knows. She knows everything. She can even tell when I'm lying. Right off. Did you know that? She's very smart.
S: But she won't know you looked if you're very careful. And also, if you find the letter, I'll buy you a nice present.
M: What will you buy me?
S: A doll, if you like.
M: I have a doll.
S: You can always use two dolls.
M: No, I can't. I have Dolly, and she's enough.
S: Well, what would you like?
M: Nothing.
S: There must be something you'd like.
M: Yes.
S: What?
M: A mink coat. Mommy always says she'd like one.
S: All right, I'll buy you a mink coat.
M: All right.
S; Will you look for the letter now?
M: No.
S: Well, why not? For God's sake…
M: Because I don't really want a mink coat. I don't really want anything. Besides, I'm very busy. I already told you, didn't I? I have to dress Dolly.
S: Monica…
M: You shouldn't shout. Mommy says it's impolite to shout, even on the telephone.
S: Monica, will you please…
M: I have to go now. G'bye. It was nice talking to you.
S: Monica!
M: What?
S: Is the letter in her desk?
M: I don't know.
S: Is it in her room?
M: I don't know. G'bye.
Carella looked up from his notes.
'Was that all?' he asked.
'Yes,' Monica said. 'I hung up. I had to dress Dolly. Besides, to tell you the truth, I was getting a little bored. I always get bored on the telephone, especially when I'm talking with grown-ups. All they want to know is how are you and have you been a good little girl. They never know how to talk. Only my friends know how to talk on the phone. I can dial Marjorie's number all by myself, did you know that? Would you like to see me dial Marjorie's number?'
'Not now,' Mrs Travail said.
'Did this person say he'd call back?' Kling asked.
'Well, I don't know if it was a he,' Monica said.
'Well, whoever… did he say he'd call back?'
'No. I just hung up.'
'Did he call back?'
'No.'
'Where is this letter, Monica?'
'I don't know. I think Mommy threw it out.'
'Then why did you tell him…?'
'Well, this person seemed so interested, I didn't have the heart to say Mommy'd thrown it out. Besides, I'm not so sure she did.'
'Could we look through her room, Mrs Travail?' Carella asked.
'Certainly,' Mrs Travail said.
'Mommy won't like it,' Monica said ruefully.
'We'll be very careful,' Carella said.
'Still. She won't like it. She's very fussy how her clothes are. Sometimes, when I play Red Cross Nurse and thi
ngs, I use her scarfs for bandages. She takes a fit, she really does. She doesn't like her drawers all messed up. She's very fussy that way. You'd better be careful.'
'We'll be very careful,' Kling said.
'Do you think there's anything to this letter?' Mrs Travail asked.
'The person who called Monica seems to think it's pretty important,' Kling said. 'As a matter of fact, your daughter thought so, too. Important enough to write and tell Ted Boone about it.'
'She wrote to Theodore?' Mrs Travail asked, interested.
'Yes.' Kling paused. 'Mrs Travail, I thought you liked him.'
'I do, immensely.'
'Then why won't you release Monica?'
'Do what?' Monica asked.
'I don't think a child should live without a woman,' Mrs Travail said. 'If he wants to take both of us in, I'll let her go tomorrow.'
'I see. You said a while ago you didn't trust him.'
'I don't. Not where it concerns Monica.'
'Was Annie a drunkard, Mrs Travail?'
'Certainly not!'
'Did you know that Mr Boone was attempting to obtain legal custody by showing that Annie was a drunkard?'
'No. I didn't know that. But I'm not surprised. I love Theodore. But I'm afraid he would stop at nothing to get the child.'
'Except murder,' Carella said.
Mrs Travail glanced quickly at Monica.
'We checked his alibi,' Kling said. 'You'll be happy to know he's in the clear.'
'I told you that when first I talked to you,' Mrs Travail said.
'Who's this?' Monica asked. 'Daddy?'
'Yes,' Mrs Travail said. 'I love that boy. I wish he'd take us both in. I hate this. I hate legal battles and courts and everything that goes with it. But how else can I let him see which way is the right way? I hate distrusting him. I absolutely hate it.'
'Well, he seems to have legal right to the child now.'
'Maybe,' Mrs Travail said, and she shrugged. 'What about this person who called Monica?'
'What about it?'
'The… the one who did it?'
'Possibly.'
'Did what?' Monica asked.
'Nothing,' Kling said.
'Is there any way of tracing the call that came?' Mrs Travail asked.
'None whatever. Even if the party is still on the line, it's a pretty difficult thing to swing. Too much of the telephone company's equipment nowadays is automatic. If a call is made from a dial phone, it's impossible to trace. And if it's made from a phone without a dial—where you have to give the operator the number you're calling—it's next to impossible to trace. Sooner or later, the call gets circuited into the automatic system, and then you're lost in a maze of calls that could have originated anywhere. Police don't trace too many calls, Mrs Travail. That's one of the popular fictions of crime detection.'
'Well,' she said, dubiously. 'I suppose.'
'Do you think we could look at Annie's room now?' Carella asked pleasantly.
Mrs Travail smiled. 'Of course,' she said.
'This may take a little while,' Carella said. 'We want to do a thorough job.'
So far, the killer was lucky.
They did a very thorough job—but they did not find the letter.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The Bureau of Criminal Identification had dug out its packet on Charles Fetterick and sent it by messenger to the Detective Division of the 87th Precinct. In the cloistered silence of the squad room, Cotton Hawes studied Fetterick's card.
Hawes read through the card a second time, flipped it over to glance at Fetterick's fingerprints, and then leafed through the rest of the stuff in the packet. Fetterick had been released after he'd served his year's time. His last known address was 127 Boxer Lane in Riverhead, the building where they'd found him and then in turn lost him. The card didn't tell Hawes very much, except that Fetterick had tried to crack the safe of his employer. 'Crack' it was perhaps an inaccurate term to use. He had tried to burgle it, and had come prepared with the combination to the safe.
Hawes looked at the I.B. card again.
Acton Photo-Engraving on Acton Drive in Riverhead.
He shrugged, told Meyer Meyer he was going out for a while, and then left the squad room.
Sam Kaplowitz was the owner of Acton Photo-Engraving. He was a giant of a man with a barrel chest and a black moustache that hung under his nose like a paint brush.
'Sure, I remember Charlie,' he said. 'How could I forget Charlie? All my years in business, that was the first time I made a mistake. The last time, too, believe me.'
'How long had he worked for you, Mr Kaplowitz?' Hawes asked.
'Sam. Call me Sam.'
'All right,' Hawes said. 'How long, Sam?'
'I should change my name, really. Not because I'm a Jew. This doesn't bother me. But Kaplowitz! Too long, isn't it? Also, it grates on my ears. When I hear it, it grates. I think I'll shorten it to Kaplan. Then everybody will know it's not because I'm Jewish I'm changing my name. I think it's important if you're Jewish you should be Jewish and not half-assish. That's the way I feel about it. How does Kaplan sound?'
'Pretty good,' Hawes said.
'Kaplan,' Kaplowitz said, testing the name. 'Maybe I'll do it. I'll discuss it with my sons. It isn't that I would have to change the business name or anything. The business is named after the street we're on. Acton Drive. Could you imagine Kaplowitz Photo-Engraving? God, what a mouthful! I would choke every time I answered the phone.'
'What about this boy, Mr Kaplowitz?'
'Sam. Please.'
'Sam.'
'Thank you. I hired him. He was nineteen, I think. He didn't know anything, not a thing. I taught him. A nice boy. Charlie Fetterick. We used to call him Feathers. Or The Bird. Some of the boys in the shop called him The Bird. Friendly, you know. Nothing nasty intended. We taught him the business. In a year, he was a good engraver, believe me. A damn good engraver.'
'What happened?'
'He decided to rob my safe. He didn't even have the right combination, do you know that? The slip of paper they found in his hand? The police? Well, it was the wrong combination. His lawyer tried to make a big thing out of that, tried to show he didn't intend to rob the safe. Some fun, he didn't. Argh, whattya gonna do? I trusted that boy. I liked him, too. But rob a safe? No. This I can't put up with. I was glad he went to jail. I'll tell you the truth, I was glad he went to jail.'
'I don't blame you,' Hawes said.
'I worked all my life, Mr Hawes,' Kaplowitz said. 'I still got acid burns on my fingers from engraving. Still. After all these years. Nothing comes easy, nothing. Now I got my little business, but still nothing comes easy. This boy had a good opportunity. He learned a good trade here. So he wanted it the easy way. So he got prison, instead. Why do people have to do such things? Argh, I don't know. I just don't know.' Kaplowitz blew his nose. 'Is he in trouble again? Charlie?'
'Yes.'
'What did he do? I heard he was out of prison last year. I'll tell you the truth, I was a little frightened. I thought he might bear a grudge, might come back to do some harm. Who knows what people who try to rob safes might do? Who knows?'
'But he didn't come back?'
'No.'
'Not to apply for a job or anything?'
'No. Do you want to know something? I wouldn't have given him a job. I know that sounds terrible, but how many times can you get burned? I know a man is supposed to have paid his debt to society and all, but I wouldn't have given him a job if he came back here on his hands and knees and begged for it. I treated that boy like one of my own sons. Thank God, my sons wouldn't try to rob my safe. What kind of trouble is he in?'
'He held up a liquor store and killed a cop.'
Kaplowitz nodded somewhat sadly. 'That's serious trouble. That I wouldn't wish on him. That's serious.'
'Yes. It's very serious.'
'It makes you wonder. Would he been in this trouble now if he hadn't been to prison? It makes you wonder.'
'Don't
wonder about it, Mr Kaplowitz.'
'Sam. Please.'
'Sam.'
'Still, it makes you wonder. You know, if there had been some reason for him to rob my safe, some good reason. If his mother was sick, or he needed the money very badly. But he was making a good salary here, and we gave him a big bonus at Christmas. No reason. No reason. A man like that, you can't feel pity. Still, I feel pity. I'm sorry he did wrong again. I'm sorry he got himself in such big trouble this time.'
'Would you happen to know if he got a job anywhere in the field since his release from prison, Mr Kaplowitz?'
'I don't know. I could check if you like. I know most of the other firms. I could check quietly. If you checked, it might scare him away. Do you want me to check around for you?'
'I'd appreciate it.'
'I will. I don't like thieves, Mr Hawes. I like honesty. Honesty is what should be in the world.'
'Here's my card,' Hawes said, handing it to him. 'If you find out anything, please give me a call.' Kaplowitz took the card and studied it.
'Cotton, huh?' he said.
'Yes.'
'Mr Hawes, when I go down to change my name, I'll give you a ring. We go together, okay?'
Hawes grinned. 'Any time you're ready, Mr Kaplowitz.'
'Sam,' Kaplowitz said. 'Please.'
The man who came into the squad room was holding his hat to his chest. He would one day be instrumental in solving a murder. His eyes were bloodshot, and his nose was running, and he had the dishevelled look of a wino. He stood just outside the slatted rail divider. He didn't say a word. He stood and waited for someone to notice him. The first one to spot him was Miscolo, on his way from Clerical with a pot of coffee.
'Help you, Mac?' he asked.
'I wannuh… uh… is this… uh… this's the Detectives?'
'Yeah,' Miscolo said. 'What is it?' Standing close to the man, he could smell the cheap wine on his breath. He backed off a few feet. 'What is it, Mac?'
'I wannuh… uh… I wannuh talk tuddy bull who's handlin' the… uh… the li'l girl got killed inny… uh… inny liquor store.'
'Meyer!' Miscolo shouted. 'Somebody to see you.'
'Is that coffee?' Meyer said.
'Yeah.'
'Bring it over.' He walked to the slatted rail divider and watched Miscolo walk to his desk and pour a cup of coffee for him. He smelled the wine almost instantly, pinched his nostrils and released them, and then said, 'Yup? What is it?'