“And your family, Marty?”
“The folks died. Young Sed is in college trying hard to be a dentist.”
“Still living in the same place?”
Marta nodded. “For some silly reason I forgot to move. The folks owned the building, you know, and it was convenient with Sed needing funds.” She gave me that big grin again. “That’s our base of operations, I understand.”
“That’s what I hear.”
“I’ll buy a couch so we can sit and talk.”
“Forget it. Get a bigger icebox instead.”
“You sound just like a lousy cop. All stomach and no heart.”
“That’s me, chicken.” I grinned back and said, “Let’s get under these reports. I need some filling in.”
“Yes, sir. Yes, sir, Lieutenant, sir.”
At six we had sandwiches sent up, and at ten we stacked the folders back in the files. I turned the fan off, stuck the .38 back in the Weber holster and said, “Let’s get some coffee. Real china-cup coffee without a cardboard taste.”
Marta put her jacket back on, buttoned it and picked up her purse. “Are we off duty, Lieutenant?”
“Off duty.”
“Then hello, Joe.”
A laugh twisted its way out of me.
“No wonder you went up so fast. You’re a symbol of devotion to service and stark purity.” Then she reached out and took my hand. “But you’re nice, Joe. Where to for coffee?”
“Down the block. It’s the closest.”
Ray made his money from the oversize urn. It seemed to be all he sold, but at least he was in the right location for it. If he didn’t need a table to do his paper work on he wouldn’t have had the one in the back. To him the counter was the thing. We picked up our mugs and went back to the corner table and sat down.
I said, “We didn’t learn much, did we?”
“Not unless you like biographies.” She paused and put her cup down. “Joe... do you make anything of it?”
“Something’s there,” I nodded. “You helped compile those statistics, didn’t you?”
“That’s right. You saw the woman’s touch?”
“It was a little flowery.”
“They asked for that. They wanted every detail. They thought there had to be a background tie-in someplace. There certainly wasn’t any other connection.”
I blew on my coffee slowly, watching her over the rim of it. “Let’s boil it down real quick, Marty. Let’s get one common denominator first.”
She made circles on the table with the wet bottom of the cup. “The gun. The same .38 killed them all.”
“What else?” I asked her.
She was real sharp. She picked up one skipped detail right away. “Single shot each. Fatal almost immediately. Indicates professional killer. Doug Kitchen was the exception. He was shot on the run and the third bullet was merely insurance for the first two. Further professionalism.”
I nodded. “That’s a common detail, but not the denominator. Now involve us too and you’ll see what I mean.”
Her face was impassive a moment, then she got the point. “You and I knew them all, didn’t we.” It was a statement rather than a question.
“Curious, isn’t it?”
“In a way... at least from a coincidental standpoint. It was your neighborhood and still is mine. That’s why we’re on this one.”
“You haven’t hit it, kid. You’ll never make sergeant this way.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Then I’ll wait until you do,” I told her.
“Smart guy,” she said. “Just because you can pull rank.”
I grinned at her. “Now you sound like old Giggle herself,”
Her eyes flashed quickly. “Listen...”
I waved a finger at her. “You watch it, kid, or I’ll start issuing orders. Then you’ll have to do whatever I tell you.”
The laughter came back in her face again. “Like what?”
“You’d be surprised at what I might order you to do.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised at all,” she grinned back. “Just don’t leave the lights on.”
“Damn dames,” I grunted. “Even when you’re policemen you can’t forget you’re dames.” Then we both laughed and got up and split the check and went back to the office.
Chapter Two
I looked across the desk at Marty, wondering at the size of her and the wild chestnut color of her hair, wondering why such a broad should go cop when she could lay the world at her feet with the big look. The resiliency of youth whom so many desired had been replaced by the lushness of maturity, whose desire was superior, and only obtainable by certain few.
I was grinning when she looked up and said, “You’re philosophizing. I can tell.”
“How?”
“You look smug.”
“It doesn’t happen often. Let me enjoy the moment.”
Her smile started gently, then broadened when some subtle intuition gave her an insight into my thoughts.
“Let me,” she said softly. “Please?”
The seconds that passed were years going back and little things coming forth.
“What are you thinking?”
“When you were the Big Pig because you wanted to be the cop and Polack Izzie and you got into the fight over me.”
“We didn’t fight over you.”
“You did, friend,” she reminded me. “It was night and I was coming home from the library when he jumped me next to the Strauss store.”
I laughed because I remembered all too painfully. “He beat the hell out of me, chicken.”
“Sure he did,” she chuckled, “but I got away. I never did thank you, did I?”
“Never.”
“So thanks.”
“Don’t bother. We didn’t fight over you. He ran over my foot with that old Packard 120. You happened along at the right time.”
“Don’t be modest, Joe. You fought over me.”
“Old Giggie?”
“Well... maybe you knew how I’d wind up.”
Both of us laughed at that one day so long ago. The laugh was real short, then she bent her head down-into the reports again and I looked at the wild chestnut hair and felt real funny inside.
Real funny.
Both of us playing guns for public money and winding up on the same deal.
Sergeant Mack Brissom rapped on the door and walked in, grinning at the comfortable little scene. “Kind of late, ain’t it?”
I shrugged. “Got to get it done. You have the rest of the stuff?”
He tapped the envelope. “It’s all here. A lot of speculation, but it can count. You know how those things are.”
“Sure.”
“You want me to brief you?”
“Yeah, but in brief. You know? Sit down.” I leaned back in the chair and folded my hands behind my head. “Let’s hear it.”
Mack bit the end off a cigar, spit the piece into his palm and lit up. It stunk, but it was part of the mores of the place.
“Well, you know the guys who were knocked off. René Mills, Hymie Shapiro, ‘Noisy’ Stuccio and Doug Kitchen.”
“I knew them when we were kids.”
“You see the ballistics report on Kitchen?”
I shook my head no.
“Same gun, so now the heat is really on. Bryan says hurry-hurry. Anyway, they all got rap sheets except this Kitchen guy and on him there’s nothing. The rest were backtracked down to when they were still playing hookey, but if you can tie them in to each other you’re better’n I am. You went over the earlies, didn’t you?”
“In detail.”
“Make anything?”
I shook my head again. “Nothing there but a familiarization course. What’s the word from outside?”
“Well...” He reached forward and picked a sheet from the envelope and scanned it quickly, then flipped it back.