Ollie started buttoning his white shirt. He must have worn a size twenty collar. “Luck. They were so jittery they nearly passed out. Anyway, I was happy I didn't have to shoot. You like being a dick, Bucky?”
“Sure.”
Ollie turned to watch himself in the mirror as he tied his bow tie. “Sometimes I think I was better off in uniform. Your post was your own little world; you knew everybody. My wife worries more. Say, how's... Elma?”
“Elma's great.” I lowered my voice. “Don't be a sap, Ollie. When you're in plain clothes you're on your own more, work a lot of angles.”
“I've been hearing about you, Bucky. And your partner—this Doc.”
“That was a break for me, teaming up with an old hand like Doc. He's...”
A voice behind us said, “You two elephants are blocking the washbowls. How about giving me a chance to clean up?”
I turned to see this kid, this Wintino, standing there with his shirt off. I said, “Go ahead. You look like you're still wet behind the ears anyway,” and moved off to one side with Ollie. For a second I thought the runt was going to tell me off.
I told Ollie, “Doc's really wised me up. Lot of stuff they never teach in detective school, like—well, like dressing modestly when you have to testify in court. You ought to meet him. He can put you straight.”
“Straight? That's a twist.”
“What you trying to say, Ollie?” I asked, starting to boil. I'd heard these cracks about Doc before, but never from a guy I liked. “Doc has been like a father to me.”
“Bucky, we've been pals since the academy days; that's why I'm saying this. Sure, I know you have a fast temper, but that's not the same as—”
“As what?” I cut in, staring at the coat Ollie was slipping into—probably fifty bucks with two pairs of pants. My custom suit cost three times that.
Ollie whispered, “I've been wanting to talk to you, and this is as good a chance as any. Everybody knows Doc has both hands on the take. He would have been kicked off the force years ago if he didn't have an 'in' downtown. But he's nothing to me. You... I don't like hearing a friend of mine is following in his footsteps.”
“Have you become a jackleg preacher in your spare time, Ollie? Mind your own business and let me handle mine! I'm doing okay.”
“Sorry I spoke up. I thought it was my business when a buddy winds up a chiseler with a badge. There, I hate to have said—”
I stepped in and banged him on the chin. He was too big for me; I only staggered him. Ollie stopped buttoning his coat. Those great arms came around me, crushing me like big snakes. Ollie said, almost sadly, “Your hands may be dirty, but they're still fast. Now relax, Bucky. Try that again and I'll break your arms off and beat your alleged brains out with 'em!”
I started to say I was sorry when this little jerk stepped in, said, “Come on, break it up.”
Ollie said, “We're only horsing around,” and let go of me. I turned on this Wintino, asked, “What's the matter, kid, you looking for a bruise?”
“From a great big mans like you?” he asked, mocking me.
I reached out to slap his fresh face and the ceiling fell on me. I knew I was sitting on the wet floor, that this little punk—I must have had at least forty pounds on him—had flattened me! The side of my jaw felt like it was sticking a mile out. Some guys were helping me to my feet. I said, “Let me alone,” and almost toppled over.
Doc's voice said, “Easy, son.” And I got his face into focus. He was holding one arm, Ollie the other. Wintino was washing up, and most of the other men were grinning at me. I tried to lunge at the runt, and Doc said tightly, “Goddamn it, cut it out! You want to get suspended!”
I was full of anger, disgust, and suddenly so tense I thought I'd explode. I shrugged, muttered, “Let's get out of here.” As Doc and I headed for the door, Ollie said, “Sorry I... I'm sorry, Bucky.”
“It's okay, Ollie,” I told him, my jaw hurting. “Forget it. Soon as this is over, we have to get together.”
“Right.”
“Tell your wife hello for me.”
“Same for Elma.”
Doc pulled me toward the steps, and as we walked down toward the squad room I said, “That runt can sure wallop.”
“Forget any roughhouse in here. We're all on edge. Bill Smith might boot you out of his squad.”
“Good; then I'll get some sleep.”
“I thought you were all fired up about catching the killers.”
“I am. That was dizzy talk. I was never kayoed before.”
“Get a hold of yourself. Forget that little wop back there. He got you with a lucky punch.”
“Stop talking about it.” I never heard Doc say “wop” before.
We had to wait around the squad room for a few minutes. When Lieutenant Smith came in he looked worse than I felt, his face lined and ashen. He passed around a rough snap of little Joanie, her mouth open, her eyes vacant, her thin neck nearly cut in half by a cruel piece of wire. For a few seconds the squad room was heavy with silence, then the low cursing, and it sounded like at least one man was sobbing.
That picture did it for me. I forgot the hurt in my jaw, my pride, became all anger.
Bill Smith's voice cut the silence with a rasping sound. “I don't have to tell you a thing. All the stops are out. Try to bring in the scum responsible for this, alive. Try real hard. They don't deserve a quick death. They're smart. They've pulled it off and we don't have any more identification than when we started. But they're two or three; we're over ten thousand. Every precinct is combing their area, every man is working on the case, as of now. We have this town sewed up tight, meaning the rats have to be holed up someplace. You men are free to go anyplace you think might furnish a lead. Go where you want; bust down doors, even if you're only working on a hunch. Forget warrants or any...” He rubbed a long hand over his tired face, which looked more like a death mask. “You're all experienced men. I don't have to warn you not to go hog-wild. But go out there. They have to be someplace within this damn city!” He took out his pipe, started to pack it. His voice was normal as he added, “And if you come up on anything—no matter how small the lead—notify me first. That's all.”
Outside, as I started our squad car, I noticed Ollie and Wintino, along with most of the others, were on leather. I thought to myself: Ollie and all his big talk—I'm riding. Hell with that, where's the kidnappers? Where haven't we looked?
Doc said, “Come on, kid. Let's go.”
“Where do you want to start?”
“With digestible food. The zoo cafeteria won't open for hours. Drive down to Kelly Street. There's a place there that may not have shut yet—real Turkish coffee and some—”
“Doc, forget coffee! Didn't you see that picture of the dead kid?”
Doc punched my thigh. “Yeah, I saw it. Easy, Bucky. I'd like to get the killers, too, but... You know where they are? We've been covering the same places for days now. Who knows?—the killers might like a decent cup of coffee, too.”