“Right away. Picked the photo out from a handful I showed him.” He stared at the picture on his desk, as if trying to conjure up the physical presence of Tommy Razenwood. “What about Kathy Franklin? Did you talk to her again?”
Connie nodded and crossed her long legs. “Kathy promised to call me here tonight, before eight. She’s talking to Pete about turning Razenwood in. I think the decision will be easier after this killing.”
“I hope so.”
“Do you have someone watching her place?” Connie asked.
Leopold nodded. Then, because his eyes were on her legs, he said, “You should get married and settle down, Connie. This is no life for a woman as good-looking as you.”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “Is that an offer?”
“Just an observation,” he said, realizing he was sounding like an old fool.
They waited until eight o’clock for Kathy’s call, with Connie growing increasingly nervous. Fletcher had been out all day, checking known pushers for a line on Selby, but they’d heard nothing from him. It was as if the case had come to a dead end, with only the reporters keeping the phone lines busy, trying for a fresh morning lead on the story.
Then, at 8:15, Kathy Franklin phoned.
Connie motioned Leopold to pick up the extension as she talked. “Hello, Kathy! I was beginning to worry that we wouldn’t hear from you.”
“I said I’d call, and I’m calling.”
“How does it look? Did you talk to Pete?”
A hesitation. Then, “Yes.” Very softly.
“Well?”
“We’ll do it.”
Connie managed to smile at Leopold. “Fine. Where is he?”
“One thing First,” Kathy said. “Pete insists on it. Tommy has a lot of friends in town and they might find out what we did. Pete doesn’t want to go through life wondering if his next fix might be poisoned. He wants plane tickets out of here for both of us.”
Connie looked questioningly at Leopold. He hated to let a junkie off the hook, but at this point they had no evidence against Selby. And they had plenty against Razenwood. He nodded, and Connie said, “Agreed. Where do you want to go?”
“Latin America. He wants two tickets to Mexico City, and then we’ll go on from there. Who knows? Maybe it’ll be a new life for both of us.”
“I hope so,” Connie said. “You’ll get the tickets when you deliver Tommy Razenwood to us.”
“Pete says he can do it tomorrow night. I’ll phone you tomorrow and let you know where. Get us out of here on the midnight flight.”
“Don’t fail us, Kathy. You know it’s murder now, and you could both be accessories. It’s jail or Mexico, and the choice is yours.”
“I know.”
Connie hung up and sat facing Leopold. “She’ll come through.”
“I hate the thought of that guy walking around free for another twenty-four hours.”
“We have no choice, unless Lieutenant Fletcher comes up with a lead.”
“We can always hope for that,” Leopold said.
But there were no leads from Fletcher. Both Selby and Razenwood seemed to have vanished from the face of the earth. No one had seen them at their usual haunts, and even the pushers insisted they did not know their whereabouts.
“It’s a blank wall,” Fletcher said the next afternoon.
“Then Kathy Franklin is our only contact. Let’s hope she comes through.”
“You got the tickets for her?”
Leopold nodded. “Connie has them. But she doesn’t turn them over until we have Razenwood.”
“So we just wait for the call?”
“There’s nothing else we can do. I think the case has been publicized enough to have every parent on guard. We’re watching the bus and the train stations, and the airport. Of course if he wants to get in his car and drive down to New York there’s no real way we can stop him. That murder might have scared him, though. I don’t think he’ll try another kidnaping.”
All through the early evening Connie Trent waited for Kathy’s call. When it finally came, just before seven, the voice on the other end was breathless. “Look, Tommy’s got a gun. He’s planning to leave town tonight, but he’s coming here first to pick up Pete’s car.”
“He’ll be at your apartment?”
“Downstairs, in the street. The car is a blue ’69 Ford, license number 8M-258. I’ll walk out with him to the car, then you can grab him. Be careful, though. He’ll use the gun if he has to.”
“We’ll be careful,” Connie said. “You just get out of the way when the police move in. He has a habit of taking hostages, and we don’t want you to be one of them.”
When she’d hung up, Leopold buzzed for Fletcher. “I want cars blocking both ends of the street, and I want men on foot nearby. It’s a bad place for a stakeout, because there are no other buildings.”
“I’ll handle it, Captain, but we can’t move in too early. If he sees too much activity he’ll get suspicious and stay away.”
“Use unmarked cars, and plainclothesmen. Keep the uniforms out of sight. I’ll go in your car.”
“What about me?” Connie asked.
“If he starts shooting it might be a dangerous place for a woman.”
“I was the one who gave you the lead, Captain — remember?”
“All right,” he said with a sigh. “You can ride with us, but you stay in the car.” He supposed he had to start treating her like a man sometime.
The summer night was hot and humid, with a forecast of possible thunderstorms in the area. It was the sort of night that would have brought the people of Kathy Franklin’s neighborhood into the streets for a breath of air, if there were still any people there. As it was, only one old woman sat on the steps in front of the apartment house, staring up the street at the piles of rubble and the sickly trees. Perhaps, thought Leopold, she was remembering the way it had looked before urban renewal. Or imagining how it might look in the future, after she was gone.
“What do you think?” Fletcher asked as they drove by the building. “Want me to get her out of there?”
“No. He could be watching.”
“From where?” Connie asked. “There’s not another building within three blocks.”
“Let’s wait. It’s getting dark. Maybe the old woman will go inside.”
Because there was no place for cover, the unmarked cars had to remain some blocks away with their motors running, ready to move in. Fletcher’s car drove through the area twice, and then they transferred to another vehicle that wouldn’t look familiar. This time the old woman was gone from the steps, and the street was quiet.
“It’s after nine,” Fletcher said. “Still think he’ll come?”
Leopold watched the street lights going on, casting their harsh white glow over the shadowed jagged foundations. Before he could answer, a blue Ford turned into the street and parked in front of Kathy’s building.
“That’s the car!” Connie said.
“Right.” Leopold dropped a hand to the pistol on his belt, then took it away. “But it’s Kathy driving. And it looks as if she’s alone.”
“Think he’s already inside?” Fletcher asked.
“I don’t know. Let’s wait and see what happens. She said he’d be leaving in that car. Maybe he’s not here yet.”
They had fifteen minutes to wait before Kathy reappeared on the steps with a man. He stood in the shadows, glancing both ways on the street, before finally hurrying down to the car. She went with him to the car door and closed it after he slid behind the wheel. Then she moved back a few steps, waving goodbye to him.
“Let’s move!” Leopold shouted into the police radio. “All cars!”
The Ford started from the curb, moving slowly at first. It seemed to hesitate and almost stop, then Fletcher rounded the corner and the Ford took off. Two blocks away the police cars screeched into position, cutting off his escape.