“What’s that, a threat?”
“No, it’s a realistic appraisal of the situation.”
“After I was nice enough to offer you a drink,” Gerry said, and smiled. “Go on, I promise to be quiet.”
“Thank you. We have good reason to believe that the fragment in the dead man’s hand was part of a larger photograph showing the location of the money stolen from the National Savings and Loan Association six years ago. We also have good reason to believe that you have another piece of that picture, and we want it. It’s as simple as that.”
“What smoked you out, Arthur?” she asked. “What made you drop the phony cover? Are you afraid somebody else might get killed?”
“It’s possible, yes.”
“Me?”
“Possibly. Whoever’s got a piece of that picture is in danger. For your own safety...”
“Bullshit,” Gerry said.
“I beg your pardon?”
“The day the cops start worrying about anybody’s safety is the day...” She banged the glass down on the bar top. “Who do you think you’re kidding, Arthur?”
“Miss Ferguson, I’m not...”
“And make up your goddamn mind! It’s either Miss Ferguson or it’s Gerry. You can’t have it both ways.”
“Then I think I’d prefer Miss Ferguson.”
“Why? Are you afraid of me or something? Big strong Superspade afraid of a snippety little girl?”
“Let’s knock off the ‘Superspade’ crap, shall we?” Brown said.
“You ever been to bed with a white girl?” Gerry asked suddenly.
“No.”
“Want to try?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Believe it or not, Miss Ferguson, my fantasies don’t include a big black Cadillac and a small white blonde.”
“I’m not a blonde.”
“I know that. I was merely...”
“Stop getting so nervous. I’ll bet your palms are wet.”
“My palms are dry,” Brown said evenly.
“Mine aren’t,” Gerry said, and turned away from him to pour herself another drink. The living room was silent. “You married?” she asked. “I am.”
“That’s okay. I’ve been to bed with married spades, too.”
“I don’t like that expression, Miss Ferguson.”
“Which? Married?” she asked, and turned to face him, leaning on the bar. “Grow up, Arthur.”
Brown rose from the sofa. “I think maybe we’d better head uptown,” he said. “You want to get dressed, please?”
“No, I don’t,” Gerry said, and smiled, and sipped at her bourbon. “What’ll the charge be? Attempted rape?”
“I don’t have to charge you with anything, Miss Ferguson. I’m conducting a murder investigation, and I’m entitled...”
“All right, all right, don’t start spouting legalities. Sit down, Arthur. Oh, do sit down. I’d much rather talk here than in some stuffy old squadroom.”
Brown sat.
“There, isn’t that better? Now — what would you like to know?”
“Do you have a piece of the photograph?”
“Yes.”
“Where’d you get it?”
“My brother-in-law gave it to me.”
“Louis D’Amore?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Just before the holdup.”
“What’d he say about it?”
“Only that I should hold onto it.”
“How come he gave it to you, and not your sister?”
“My sister’s a scatterbrain, always was. Lou knew who the smart one was.”
“Did he give you the list, too?”
“What list?”
“The list of names.”
“I don’t know anything about a list of names.”
“That’s a lie, Gerry.”
“No, I swear. What list?”
“A list that has your name on it, among others.”
“I’ve never seen it.”
“You’re lying, Gerry. Your partner has half of that list. Where’d he get it?”
“I don’t know anything about a list. What’s it supposed to be?”
“Forget it,” Brown said. “Where’s your part of the snapshot?”
“In the gallery safe.”
“Will you turn it over to us?”
“No.”
“I thought you said...”
“I said I’d answer your questions. Okay. I’ve done that. There’s no law that says I have to give personal property to the police.”
“I can think of one,” Brown said.
“Yeah, which one?”
“How about Section 1308 of the Penal Law? A person who conceals, withholds, or aids in concealing or withholding any property, knowing the same to have been stolen...”
“Is the photograph stolen property?”
“It indicates the location of stolen property.”
“How do I know that? Lou gave me a tiny little corner of a photograph and asked me to hold onto it. That’s all I know.”
“Okay, I’m telling you the photograph shows the location of the NSLA loot. Now you know.”
“Can you prove it?” Gerry said, and smiled. “I don’t think so, Arthur. Until you find the money, you can’t say for sure it even exists. And you won’t find the money until you put the whole picture together. Tch, tch, such a dilemma. Why don’t we go into the other room and ball a little?”
“I’d rather not, thanks.”
“I’d drive you out of your mind, Arthur.”
“You already have,” Brown said, and left.
8
The dilemma was not quite so horned as Geraldine Ferguson imagined. All Brown had to do was find himself a Supreme Court judge, swear to the judge that upon reliable information and personal knowledge, there was probable cause to believe that a safe at the Ferguson Gallery at 568 Jefferson Avenue contained evidence that could lead to the solution of a crime, and request from the judge a warrant and order of seizure to open the safe, search it, and appropriate the evidence. He couldn’t do that today because it was Sunday, and in the city for which Brown worked, Supreme Court judges were entitled to a day of rest; only the direst of emergencies would have been considered cause for shaking a man out of his bed and requesting a search warrant. Brown was confident, though, that Gerry would not rush down to the gallery and take the photograph out of the safe. He had done nothing to disabuse her notion that he was helpless to open that safe, and he felt certain the photograph would still be there come morning when, armed with his legal paper, he would force her to produce it.
At 3:00 P.M. Sunday afternoon, he met with Carella in the squadroom and went over what they now had. By combining Krutch’s half of the list (which he claimed to have received from Lucia Feroglio, but which she claimed she had not given him) with the half found in Kahn’s cash box (which Geraldine Ferguson claimed she knew nothing about), they were able to piece together seven names:
ALBERT WEINBERG
DONALD RENNINGER
EUGENE E. EHRBACH
ALICE BONAMICO
GERALDINE FERGUSON
DOROTHEA MCNALLY
ROBERT COOMBS
The first four people on the list were already dead. The fifth person had admitted having a piece of the photograph, and they hoped to get that from her in the morning. Now, with the telephone directories for the five sections of the city spread open before them, they began searching for the remaining two names.