"I already called Annie and told her," Cash responded defensively. Annie hadn't liked the idea, even when he had invited her to go along. She had refused on grounds that Nancy might need her.
"Some other time?" Beth asked. "I think everybody's down there now. They all got here early. Guess they want to get it over with."
As they descended the stairs, Beth observed, "Everybody was so cooperative, we probably ought to call the whole thing off."
"I'll buy that," said John.
"You know we've got to go the whole route, John. Step by step. When I'm done there ain't going to be a hole big enough for a roach to crawl through."
"You're just painting yourself into a corner."
"Beth! Who are all these people?"
"Reporting officers. Evidence technicians. Ambulance driver and attendant. Emergency room staff. People from the coroner's office. From the morgue."
"Jesus."
Twenty bewildered pairs of eyes watched the polygraph operator set up his equipment. Hank Railsback leaned against the wall in a shadowed corner, an amused smile playing across his lips as he listened to the captain.
"What kind of story did you feed them, woman?"
Beth just blushed and studied the floor.
"Uh-huh. A line of bullshit."
It was eleven-fifteen before they finished.
John was right. Beth was right.
Nothing.
Nursing a headache, Cash watched the polygraph operator pack his gear. Beth kept flexing fingers sore from gripping a pen. John, and everyone else who could, had taken off long since.
"Too bad Hank didn't stick around. But he hates to see his brain-children stillborn."
Beth moved behind him, began kneading his shoulder muscles. It startled him, but felt so nice he didn't ask her to stop.
"Where do you want to eat?"
Her grip tightened. She started to say something, choked on it. Her fingers quivered. "I still think I should take a rain-check. We've got to be back in here at eight."
"Yeah. Right. Well, I'll walk you to your car."
Leaning in her window, he said, "Thanks again. I really don't know what I'd do without you, Beth. You shouldn't put up with the crap I dump on you. That we all do."
"I don't mind. For you. At least you… Well, you know. You're nice about it. I'd better go."
"Sure. Thanks again. Bye."
He thought about Beth all the way home.
More and more, he suspected something was happening. It was flattering, tempting, and terrifying. If he formally recognized the condition at all, there would be pain and trouble no matter what course he followed. The wise thing, he supposed, would be to cool it by completely ignoring it. That would minimize the potential for pain.
Annie had fallen asleep watching Johnny Carson and rereading MacDonald's The Girl in the Plain Brown Wrapper. He wriggled himself a seat and gently woke her, presented the books he had picked up downtown.
"Struck out again, huh?" she mumbled.
"Yeah."
"Keep plugging, honey. It'll come."
"I'm beginning to wonder."
Cash's depression carried over into Tuesday. Lack of sleep was no help, and spending morning and afternoon being bored or angered by lawyers badgering witnesses or protesting one another's antics was a classic downer. He kept stifling an urge to stand up and scream, "But what about justice!" The concept seemed to have vanished from the American courtroom completely. All that remained was a highly ritualized barristry.
There were moments when he wished the Good Lord would send down a plague able to take no one but ambulance chasers. They were a pestilence themselves, a pustulant wound on the corpus of humanity. Directly or indirectly they controlled everything.
These dreary courtroom passages often brought on moments of paranoia when he felt as intensely about attorneys as had Hitler about Jews. He fancied very similar conspiracies.
Beth had but one bit of progress to report when he returned to the station. Railsback had contacted Miss Groloch's attorney about the possibility of the old woman undergoing a polygraph test. The man had refused. Of course.
John had completed his courtroom purgatory by noon recess. He had spent his afternoon digging. He now arrived, looking sheepish.
"Got an idea," he said. "Illegal as hell. Well, shady. You got your contacts in the outfit. I thought maybe you could get them to help."
"I don't think I'm going to like this." Cash guided Harald into his office, closed the door.
"Suppose we jump the old lady?" John asked. "Anything, just so we get her to move. We got a good idea she'll make it down to that pay phone. Maybe some of O'Lochlain's people could snatch her for a while. And some others toss her place. Like with metal detectors and stuff. We could loan them the gear."
"I knew I wouldn't like it."
"What about it?"
"In a word, illegal. John, something like that could get us crucified."
Cash was tempted. Unbearably. Otherwise he would have responded with a simple no.
"Only as a last resort, of course."
"Of course."
"You'll think about it?"
"How can I help it now that you've brought it up? But I guarantee you I won't pull anything like that unless Judge Gardner keeps turning me down. He doesn't, we can do it ourselves, legal. Subject closed."
"Okay. You don't have to bite my head off. Now, how about your little brown brother?"
"My who?"
"Major Tran. When's he coming?"
"Not sure yet. Sometime this week. Why?"
"Carrie and Nancy have had their heads together. Near as I can figure, they want to come over and do the welcoming party cooking for Annie. As a surprise."
"I don't know."
"Know what you mean. If they get going on Michael. And the kids making like Indians… Maybe we could get sitters."
"Maybe. Their hearts are in the right place, anyway. Let's worry about it when the time comes."
"Okay. I'm heading home now. Oh. We're having a barbecue Sunday, if it doesn't rain. Bring your own beer and pork steaks. And if Annie wants, she can make one of those green cakes."