Carey stood up, reached toward the phone, stopped. "Who knows this?"
"The mayor's walking around City Hall right now, talking to his top people, maybe a couple of people on the council. Word will leak tonight."
"Okay." She picked up the Aronson drawing, held it vertically like a poster, and said, "You know, it's really pretty good." Then she folded it, businesslike, and said, "Get out of here. I'll get the police guy to come see you in twenty minutes about the drawings. I'll tell him I got them from an insider, but not you. You can be surprised-he won't know where it's coming from. I'll get the mayor myself."
"The Aronson picture… I mean, her ass is in it. I don't know if you show asses at five o'clock, but you've got to show enough that people get the idea of the style. Same with the others… We need to find the guy who drew them."
"I think we can show an ass," Carey said.
"The more the better," Lucas said. "We need a little pop, a little shock. Some talk."
"You'll get talk," she said. "You can bet your ass on it."
BACK AT THE office, Lucas barely had time to get his coat off before the department's public relations officer called and said that the Channel Three reporter wanted to speak to him. "He says it's urgent. He's got a camera with him. You know what it's about?"
"I got an idea," Lucas said. "Send him down."
"The movies?" Marcy asked when Lucas hung up.
"Absolutely," Lucas said. "You want to take it? I got this goddamned hickey."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I'll just pass him on to you."
"Jesus, I gotta… I gotta… my hair looks like somebody peed on it. I gotta…" She dashed out of the office.
Del came in a step ahead of the camera. Lucas was shocked when the reporter asked about the drawings. "Where do you guys get this shit?" Lucas looked sideways at Del, who said, "Hey, I just met them in the hallway. I never said a word."
"I got sources," the reporter said with a sly smile. "You gonna give us something? We got most of it already."
"Sergeant Sherrill's handling it. We'd decided we might talk to you guys tomorrow. I guess a day early wouldn't hurt, but the other stations-"
"Fuck the other stations," the reporter said. The cameraman was leaning against the wall, and appeared to have gone to sleep. Marcy came back five seconds later. Her hair looked neater and she had some color in her cheeks, either from cold water or slapping herself. And she'd unbuttoned one more button on her blouse; Lucas thought she looked terrific. The cameramen, sensing the presence of an unbuttoned blouse, woke up.
"What're we doing?" she asked.
"Whatever you want to do," Lucas told her. "You want to go with it?"
"Say yes," the reporter said. "We'll owe you big."
"I guess it wouldn't hurt," Marcy said, shrugging. "Sure I'll talk to you."
"SO WE GOT two favors owed to us on one story," Marcy said forty minutes later, as they sat in the bay area of the office watching a portable TV. Carey was on the City Hall steps, reporting that the mayor had confirmed that he wouldn't be running for reelection in the fall. Channel Three had led with a few shots from the drawings as a teaser-police fear killer-artist stalks Minneapolis woman-and then cut to Carey with the exclusive from the mayor's office. From that report, she segued into the murder story:
"This major story breaks exclusively on Channel Three just as police officials are huddling on another nightmarish problem: A killer is stalking Twin Cities women, and before he strikes, he apparently lures them into posing nude."
Lucas sat up. "That's not right," he said to the television.
"Close enough for TV work," Del said.
The drawing of Aronson appeared on the screen, ass included. "Julie Aronson was strangled eighteen months ago by a man who apparently had intimate knowledge of her."
"Gonna scare the shit out of the other women," Marcy said. "I mean, we're gonna get some attention. I better call them."
"That's what we wanted," Lucas said. "Attention." They watched as the Channel Three reporter came up, on tape, with the details, and then Marcy was on, with an explanation.
"Great blouse button," Del said, leering at her.
"Fuck you, it just fell open," Marcy said, flushing.
"No, no, don't say that," Lucas said. "That's great technique. If you hadn't thought of it, I would have suggested it, except I probably wouldn't have thought of it. But you know, it doesn't hurt to have a sexy cop talking to TV. Gives you some leverage, God help us all."
"Look at the way they framed you. Not just your face, but from the cleavage up," Del said. "That is really good."
"It just occurred to me that there've only been two women on the newscast," Marcy said. "And you've slept with both of them, Lucas. Was Carey better than me, or was I better?"
Del looked at Lucas and said, "Run."
THE TWO STORIES on Channel Three pulled all the other TV stations and both newspapers into City Hall. The mayor confirmed that he would not be running and Rose Marie outlined what was known in the Aronson case, correcting the impression that more than one woman had been threatened.
Rose Marie called as soon as she was off the air. "I assume that was you, pulling strings with Carey."
"Yeah. They owe us."
"Good. Talk to you tomorrow. I'm gonna go home and cry."
Lucas hung up, looked at his watch, then called Weather and suggested they get together for a late sandwich.
"I'll bring pajamas," she said.
"Yeah? You have any idea how old I am?"
"Not nearly as old as you're gonna be by midnight."
He was pulling on his jacket when the phone rang again. He thought it might be Weather with a quick call-back. "Yeah?"
"Lucas?" A man's voice.
"Yeah."
"This is Gerry Haack. You remember me?"
"Yeah, Gerry. What's happening?" Lucas looked at his watch again.
"I'm the lawn-care guy. I had that thing."
The thing with crystal meth and the rampage through the men's fine accessories department at Dayton's. "Yeah, yeah, what can I do for you?"
"You said I owed you, and I should call if I ever got anything. I got something."
"Yeah?" Weather would be walking out the door already. "What you got?"
"I'm not in the lawn business anymore, I'm working at the Cobra Lounge over in St. Paul. It's not the greatest place, but I'm trying to get back on my feet, you know-"
"That's great, Gerry. So, what you got?"
"You know this woman that got strangled? Aronson?"
"Yes."
"I just saw the picture on TV, but they didn't say anything about her selling it."
"What?"
"She was on the corner, man." Haack's voice dropped a half-octave and got cozy. Man-to-man.
"What? What're you talking about?"
"She was doing the hokey-pokey for money," Haack said.
"You know that for sure?"
"Yeah. I know a guy she dated a couple of times. Cost him a hundred bucks a time, nothing but blow jobs and straight fucking. Nothing kinky. They sit around here and talk about it at night."
"You say you know him?"
"Well, yeah. You couldn't ever tell him who let on. They'd kill me." Now his voice was nervous, as though he were having second thoughts about the tip.
"Nobody'll know," Lucas said. "What's his name?"
AFTER TALKING TO Haack, Lucas stole another ten minutes to go back through the file on Aronson. Swanson noted that he'd searched state and national records on her and checked her fingerprints with the feds, and she'd come up clean. Still, if Aronson had been on the corner, somebody should have picked it up.
He'd worked himself into a fury by the time he arrived at the restaurant. "How in the hell can you have a criminal investigation going on for a year, and you don't know the chick is hustling?"
"It wasn't going on for a year. It was a halfhearted missing-persons investigation for a couple of weeks after she disappeared, and then it wasn't anything," Weather said. "And maybe she was an amateur. You said she'd never been arrested."
"But you gotta know that stuff," he said. "You gotta talk to enough people that you find it out. Now there's a question about these other women. Are they pros? One of them claims that she's still a virgin-not that anybody got out his flashlight and looked. If they're pros, then we've got a whole other problem than the one we started with."