“If Geltman tries to take her,” he said, “Jason will be right there, on top of him. Boone says he’s fast. But still …”
Monica was silent, thoughtful, her lips on the rim of her glass, but not sipping.
“Was it your idea, Edward?”
“Yes. I suppose you think I’m some kind of a monster.”
She smiled. “Some kind.”
She never ceased to surprise him.
“Then you think it’s worth the risk?”
“Will it put Geltman away?” she asked.
“Oh, it’ll put him away all right. Or help to. I can’t let him walk, Monica. I’d never forgive myself if I let him off the hook.”
“I know,” she said, almost sadly. “God’s surrogate on earth.”
“Oh Jesus,” he said, “I don’t see myself that way at all. Not anymore. It’s a personal thing. Like he slapped my face, or hurt someone I loved.”
She looked at him, astonished.
“Edward, you never even knew Maitland.”
“What difference does that make?”
“What if he hadn’t been an artist whose work you admire? What if he had been a shoemaker, say, or a butcher?”
“No difference at all,” he said doggedly.
“I believe you,” she sighed. “I just wish I could understand you. Completely.”
“And I you,” he said. “I can never get to the end of you.”
“Maybe it’s best this way,” she said.
“Sure it is. Like Maitland’s paintings. I can’t understand the attraction. Can’t analyze it. But I can feel it. Respond to it. Know it provides something I want. Like you.”
“Like you,” she said. “Tired?” she asked.
“Oh yes. Beat.”
“Maybe we’ll finish our drinks, you get into bed, and we’ll just hold each other.”
He looked at her. She looked at him.
“We can start that way,” he said.
23
DELANEY WAS DRESSING THE following morning when the phone rang. It was Boone. He apologized for calling so early. The sergeant wondered if maybe they should put a tail on Saul Geltman, in case he decided to run. The Chief considered it a moment, then decided against it.
“If he spots a tail, all bets are off,” he told Boone. “We’ll just have to believe he plans to make the meet with Mama Perez at noon, as planned.”
The sergeant agreed that was probably best, and confessed he was getting antsy. The Chief said that was understandable, he was too, but last-minute changes of plans had soured many a good setup, and he wanted this scam to go down as rigged. He told Boone that if he wanted to keep busy, and stop fretting about possible fluffs, to check on the search warrant Commissioner Thorsen had promised. If it had been issued, the sergeant was to select two good men to make the toss—but not before noon.
Then the Chief finished dressing and strapped on his short-barreled belly gun. He slipped the packet of Polaroid shots of the Maitland barn into his jacket pocket. At the last minute he also took his handcuffs, wrapping them in his handkerchief so they wouldn’t jangle.
He had only grapefruit juice, a slice of unbuttered toast, and two cups of black coffee for breakfast.
“Very good,” Monica approved. “You’re getting heavy as a bear. Ask me; I know.”
“Let’s have no lascivious tittle-tattle at breakfast,” he said. “How did you sleep?”
“Fine. How about you?”
“Went out like a light.”
“So did I,” she said. “Too bad the light didn’t. It was still burning this morning.”
They both laughed, and then, as they ate, they discussed a trip they were planning for the Fourth of July weekend. They were going to rent a car, leave early, drive up to the girls’ camp in New Hampshire, and spend the entire three days with them.
“How about Rebecca and Boone?” Delaney said suddenly. “Should we ask them to come along?”
“That would be fun,” Monica said. “But we’ll be staying at a motel. It won’t embarrass you, will it?”
“My God, Monica,” he said grouchily, “you must think I’m an old fuddy-duddy.”
“Not at all,” she said. “You’re the youngest fuddy-duddy I know.”
He smiled, humor restored, and put his empty dishes in the sink.
“I better go,” he said. “Expect me when you see me.”
They embraced briefly, and she kissed his chin.
“Take care,” she said lightly.
On Orchard Street, already beginning to fill up with shoppers, he made the rounds of electronics van, surveillance team, and the Perez and Ruiz apartments. He found everyone present except for Abner Boone, who had called and said he’d be there by eleven o’clock.
Delaney then took Mama Perez aside, sat her down, and went over with her once again what she was to say and how she was to act. On his instructions, she was wearing one of her oldest dresses, a shapeless sack of faded rayon. Her feet were thrust into worn mules, and she had removed most of her heavy makeup. To him, she looked old, weary, vulnerable. He hoped that was the way Saul Geltman would see her.
Abner Boone arrived, reported the warrant had been obtained, and two dicks were standing by to toss Geltman’s apartment and office at noon.
“They’ll get in,” the sergeant assured Delaney. “They’re good men; they’ll con the super.”
Then they ran a noise-level test, with Jason T. Jason acting the part of Saul Geltman. The problem was to adjust the volume of sound on the TV monitor in the Ruiz apartment so it was loud enough for them to hear, but not so loud that it would carry though the wall between apartments, and Geltman would hear his own voice booming back at him. They cut it down as low as they could, so they had to put their heads close to the set, but nothing could be heard in the Perez apartment.
They took a final look around to make certain there was no track of their presence. Then they filed into the Ruiz apartment, leaving Mama Perez alone. Delaney was the last to leave.
“When this is over,” he told her, “win, lose, or draw, I’m buying you a half-gallon of the best whiskey I can find.”
“Ooh,” she said, eyes widening. “You stay tonight, help me dreenk eet?”
He laughed and patted her veined cheek. If she was fearful, he could see no sign of it. He went into the Ruiz apartment. The bathroom door was locked, They settled down to wait. They watched Mama on the monitor. She moved slowly about her apartment, made a cup of coffee, sat down to drink it and leaf through a Spanish magazine. When she took her empty cup to the sink, they saw her pause before one of her painted plaster saints. Her lips moved, and she crossed herself. No one smiled. They waited in silence.
They remained silent as their watches showed 11:30, 11:45, 12:00, 12:15. At 12:20 Jason T. Jason muttered, “Come on. Come on!”
At 12:26 the walkie-talkie Sergeant Boone was holding crackled into life, and the surveillance man across the street said, “He’s coming. North to south. Alone.”
They pushed closer to the TV monitor.
“Stopping,” the walkie-talkie reported. “Looking around. Looking at the building. Going up the steps. He’s in.”
Boone put his lips close to the mike, pressed the Send button.
“Give him five minutes,” he whispered. “Then move across to backup. Got it?”
“Got it. Will do. Out.”
Delaney looked at the others: Boone, Jason, the electronics man.
“No movement,” he warned in a low voice. “Strangle before you cough or sneeze.”
They all nodded. Eyes on the TV screen. Waiting …
They heard the knock on the door of the Perez apartment. Watched Mama start, freeze, then move slowly to the door.
“Who?” she called.
They didn’t hear the reply, but Mama turned the lock, slipped the chain, opened the door. Her body blocked their view, but they heard the voice.
“Rosa Perez?”
“Yesss. You Meester Geltman?”
“I am indeed. May I come in?”
“Oh sure. Come in.”
She stood aside then. Saul Geltman sauntered into the room. He was carrying a small, paper-wrapped package. He looked around. Mama Perez closed the door but, following Delaney’s instructions, didn’t lock or chain it.
“Nice place you’ve got here,” Geltman said tonelessly, staring about.
He glanced at the open closet, the kitchenette, peered through the open door of the bathroom.
“You share the bathroom?” he asked lightly.
“Oh sure. But nex’ door, they ain’t home.”
He walked slowly into the bathroom. Now he was off-screen, but they heard him try the bathroom door to the Ruiz apartment.
“Is locked,” Mama said.
“So I see,” Geltman said.
He came back into the main room, still looking around.
“And where is your daughter?” he asked pleasantly.
“At the bodega,” Mama Perez said. “Shopping. She come back soon. Feefteen meenutes maybe. Half an hour.”
“Good,” he said. “I’d like to meet her. May I sit down?”
“Oh sure. Anywhere.”
They watched Geltman look at the furniture. He started to sit in the upholstered armchair, then changed his mind.
“I’ll bet that’s your chair,” he smiled winningly.
He selected one of the tubular aluminum chairs. He pulled it free of the table, turned it to face the armchair. He gestured.
“After you, Mrs. Perez,” he said gallantly.
He waited until she was seated in the armchair. Then he sat down gracefully in the straight chair. He put the package on the table. He crossed his knees negligently.
In the Ruiz apartment, Chief Delaney touched Officer Jason’s arm, pointed toward the bathroom door. The big black nodded, rose slowly to his feet. He moved lightly, cautiously to the door. He put his fingers on the turnbolt, looked back at Delaney. The Chief put up his hand, signaling Jason to wait.
“Do you mind if I smoke?” Saul Geltman asked.
“Hokay,” Mama nodded. “Is hokay.”
“Will you join me?”
“Oh sure.”
Geltman rose to proffer a silver case. While he was going through the business of lighting their cigarettes, Delaney nodded to Jason. He opened the lock easily, slowly. They watched the screen. Apparently Geltman heard nothing. Jason tiptoed back to his original position.
Geltman lounged back casually, smoking his cigarette with an elegance so exaggerated that the watching cops realized, for the first time, how wound-up he was, how tight and anxious. On the black-and-white TV monitor he appeared to be wearing a loosely cut black suit, white shirt, black tie, black shoes. He looked, Delaney thought, like a miniature undertaker, and he wondered where Geltman was carrying a weapon, if he had one.
“Well now,” the art dealer said. “We seem to have a problem, don’t we?”
“Problem?” Mama said. “You got a problem. I got no problem.”
“Yes, of course,” he said with a clenched smile. “That’s very true. Tell me, did you go to the police or did they find you?”
Rosa lowered her head, and they didn’t catch her reply in the Ruiz apartment.
“I wonder how they did that?” Geltman said. “Well … no matter. I still don’t understand how they managed to get drawings of you and your daughter. Do you?”
“He hired my daughter,” Mama said. “The artist. To pose for heem. I went back weeth her on Monday. A cop was there. He seen us.”
“Oh-ho. I understand. Bad luck. For me, I mean,” he added hastily.
Mama jerked her chin toward the package on the table.
“You breeng the moaney?” she asked.
“Of course. As I promised.”
“Five tousan’? Small beels?”
“Just as you requested. When will you and your daughter leave for Puerto Rico?”
“Soon. Maybe nex’ week.”
“And you say you’ll never return?”
“Nevair,” she vowed.
He nodded. Holding his cigarette butt, one hand cupped underneath, he looked around for an ashtray. Rosa Perez stood up, moved to the kitchenette. For a moment her back was turned to Geltman, and Delaney tensed. But the art dealer didn’t move. Mama came back with a saucer, and they stubbed out their cigarettes. The Chief found he was gripping his own knees tightly. He forced himself to spread his hands limply.
“When did the police ask you to identify my photograph?” Geltman asked.
He’s stalling, Delaney decided. What for? Hasn’t the blood for it? Waiting for Dolores? What?
“Couple days ago,” Mama Perez said. “They show me a lot of peectures. ‘Who was the man you seen?’ they ask me.”
“And you picked out my picture?”
She nodded.
“You’re certain it was me you saw, Mrs. Perez?”
Again she nodded. “But I tol’ them I ain’t sure.”
“Very smart of you,” he smiled. “Very intelligent. Well, I’m glad you called and we got together. Mutual benefit, you might say.”
He reached out, pushed the package slowly across the table toward her.
“Open it,” he said harshly. “Count it.”
She stood, moved to the table, took up the package. Saul Geltman also stood. He stretched. All his movements easy, nonchalant. He slid his hands into his trouser pockets.
Delaney grabbed Jason’s arm, jerked, nodded. Jason glided across the floor, stood at the bathroom door, his hand lightly on the knob. He stared back at Delaney. The Chief pointed at Boone. The sergeant moved up behind Jason. He slid his revolver from the hip holster. He thumbed off the safety. He, too, stared back at Delaney. Both cops had a strained, stretched look, lips drawn back from glistening teeth.
On the screen, Mama Perez was fumbling with the package. It was tightly wrapped with Scotch tape. She struggled to tear it open.
Saul Geltman was now directly behind her, a few feet away. He spread his feet a little wider. He braced himself. His hands came slowly from his pockets. Delaney saw the gleam.
“Go!” he shouted. “Take him!”
Boone had been right: Jason was fast. The black flung back the bathroom door. Went hurtling through. Boone dashed after. Both men roaring. Geltman caught. Stoned by sound. Head pulled. Neck stretched. Face twisted. Mama Perez suddenly bowed. Stooping. Back tensed for the knife held high, twinkling in sunlight.
Jason didn’t go for the knife hand. No punch, no blow, no karate chop. He simply ran into Geltman, a full body block. Charged into him and tried to keep running, knees pumping high, feet slipping on the polished linoleum.
Geltman bounced off him. Just smashed away. Hair and knife flying, arms and legs every which way. His limp body, boneless, landed half on the bed, half off. Slowly, slowly, slipped onto the floor, and Jason clamped one big foot on the back of his neck.
“Stay here,” Delaney snapped at the tech. “Keep the tape rolling.”
He lumbered into the Perez apartment. Jason was jerking a dazed Saul Geltman to his feet. Boone put the muzzle of his revolver to Geltman’s teeth. Mama Perez had retreated from the action. She was facing them, back against the wall. Hissing faintly. Delaney pulled out his handkerchief. Handcuffs clattered to the floor. He ignored them, but picked up the knife carefully by the tip, using the wadded handkerchief. He placed the knife on the table, alongside the torn package. One corner was ripped open; he could see the stack of cut newspaper.
Sergeant Boone holstered his revolver. He took a come-along grip on one of Geltman’s arms. Jason clamped the other. The art dealer looked about wildly, hair and clothes in disarray. Delaney thought everything was under control when Mama Perez came off the wall.
“Sonnenbitch!” she screamed. “Bestid!”
She came leaping across the room, hands clawed, and jumped on Geltman before they could block her. It looked as if she were trying to shin up his body, one leg crooked around his, one knee slamming at his
groin, a hand tearing at this throat, fingers raking at his eyes. While she screamed, screamed, screamed. Spanish and English. Curses, oaths, obscenities, execrations.
Delaney got an arm about her thick waist from behind. Boone and Jason tugged Geltman in the other direction. But they could not peel Rosa Perez away. She clung to Geltman, pounding on his skull with her fist, spitting in his face. Clawing, biting, butting him with her head. The five of them stood swaying, one tight group, pressed tightly together, staggering to keep their balance.
Delaney turned his face toward the door. “Brady!” he yelled desperately.
In a few seconds the backup man came dashing in from the hallway, revolver held out in front of him. The man posted on the stairs was hard on his heels. They holstered their guns and joined in, prying Mama’s fingers loose, one by one, bending them back, then twisting her arms behind her as Delaney strained mightily at her waist, and Boone kicked one of her legs loose.
Finally, huffing, sweating, cursing furiously, they got the maddened woman off Geltman and dragged her away.
“Jesus Christ!” Delaney panted. “Take her in the other room and sit on her!”
The backup men hustled Mama Perez, still kicking and spitting, into the Ruiz apartment. The Chief followed them in there.
“Got enough tape?” he asked the tech man.
“Plenty, Chief. All you’ll need.”
“Good. Keep it rolling till I tell you to disconnect.”
He went back into the Perez apartment, closing both bathroom doors behind him. They sat Saul Geltman down in a straight-backed aluminum chair facing the big window. Sergeant Boone took the other tubular chair. Delaney sat in the armchair, and Jason T. Jason stood with his back against the door.
All four of them were breathing heavily, limp and exhausted in that hot-box of a room under the roof. Boone and Jason loosened their ties, unbuttoned their collars. No one spoke for several minutes. Then Saul Geltman attempted to dust himself off.
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