“What do you mean?”
“That’s how we smoke him out. I don’t want to do anything that’ll put this girl in danger. I want this punk to make his move against you, Bert.”
“Me?”
“You. He knows where she works, and chances are he knows where she lives, and I’ll bet my life he’s watching her every minute of the day. Okay, let’s give him something to watch.”
“Me?” Kling said again.
“You, that’s right. Stay with that girl day and night. Let’s—”
“Day and night?”
“Well, within reason. Let’s get this guy so goddamn sore at you that he comes after you and tries to do exactly what he did to Fairchild.”
Kling smiled, “Gee,” he said, “suppose he succeeds?”
“Fairchild is a new cop,” Byrnes said. “You told me so yourself,”
“Okay, Pete, but you’re forgetting something, aren’t you?”
“What’s that?”
“The girl doesn’t like me. She’s not going to take kindly to the idea of spending time with me.”
“Ask her if she’d rather get raped some night in the elevator after this guy has knocked out her teeth and broken some of her ribs. Ask her that.”
Kling smiled again. “She might prefer it.”
“I doubt it.”
“Pete, she hates me. She really…”
Byrnes smiled. “Win her over, boy,” he said. “Just win her over, that’s all.”
As Kling had anticipated, Cindy Forrest was not overwhelmed by the prospect of having to spend even an infinitesimal amount of time with him. She reluctantly admitted, however, that such a course might be less repulsive than the possibility of spending an equal amount of time in a hospital. It was decided that Kling would pick her up at the office at noon Friday, take her to lunch, and then walk her back again. He reminded her that he was a city employee and that there was no such thing as an expense account for taking citizens to lunch while trying to protect them, a subtlety Cindy looked upon as simply another index to Kling’s personality. Not only was he obnoxious, but he was apparently cheap as well.
Thursday’s beautiful weather had turned foreboding and blustery by Friday noon. The sky above was a solemn gray, the streets seemed dimmer, the people less animated. He picked her up at the office, and they walked in silence to a restaurant some six blocks distant. She was wearing high heels, but the top of her head still came only level with his chin. They were both blond, both hatless. Kling walked with his hands in his coat pockets. Cindy kept her arms crossed over her middle, her hands tucked under them. When they reached the restaurant, Kling forgot to hold open the door for her, but only the faintest flick of Cindy’s blue eyes showed that this was exactly what she expected from a man like him. Too late, he allowed her to precede him into the restaurant.
“I hope you like Italian food,” he said.
“Yes, I do,” she answered, “but you might have asked first.”
“I’m sorry, but I have a few other things on my mind besides worrying about which restaurant you might like.”
“I’m sure you’re a very busy man,” Cindy said.
“I am.”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
The owner of the restaurant, a short Neapolitan woman with masses of thick black hair framing her round and pretty face, mistook them for lovers and showed them to a secluded table at the rear of the place. Kling remembered to help Cindy off with her coat (she mumbled a polite thank-you) and then further remembered to hold out the chair for her (she acknowledged this with a brief nod). The waiter took their order and they sat facing each other without a word to say.
The silence lengthened.
“Well, I can see this is going to be perfectly charming,” Cindy said. “Lunch with you for the next God knows how long.”
“There are things I’d prefer doing myself, Miss Forrest,” Kling said. “but as you pointed out yesterday, I am only a civil servant. I do what I’m told to do.”
“Does Carella still work up there?” Cindy asked.
“Yes.”
“I’d much rather be having lunch with him.”
“Well, those are the breaks,” Kling said. “Besides, he’s married.”
“I know he is.”
“In fact, he’s got two kids.”
“I know.”
“Mmm. Well, I’m sure he’d have loved this choice assignment, but unfortunately he’s involved with a poisoning at the moment.”
“Who got poisoned?”
“Stan Gilford.”
“Oh? Is he working on that? I was reading about it in the paper just yesterday.”
“Yes, it’s his case.”
“He must be a good detective. I mean, to get such an important case.”
“Yes, he’s very good,” Kling said.
The table went silent again. Kling glanced over his shoulder toward the door, where a thickset man in a black overcoat was just entering.
“Is that your friend?” he asked.
“No. And he’s not my friend.”
“The lieutenant thought he might have been one of your ex-boyfriends.”
“No.”
“Or someone you’d met someplace.”
“No.”
“You’re sure you didn’t recognize any of those mug shots yesterday?”
“I’m positive. I don’t know who the man is, and I can’t imagine what he wants from me.”
“Well, the lieutenant had some ideas about that, too.”
“What were his ideas?”
“Well, I’d rather not discuss them.”
“Why not?”
“Because… well, I’d just rather not.”
“Is it the lieutenant’s notion that this man wants to lay me?” Cindy asked.
“What?”
“I said is it the—”
“Yes, something like that,” Kling answered, and then cleared his throat.
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Cindy said.
The waiter arrived at that moment, sparing Kling the necessity of further comment. Cindy had ordered the antipasto to start, a supposed specialty of the house. Kling had ordered a cup of minestrone. He carefully waited for her to begin eating before he picked up his spoon.
“How is it?” he asked her.
“Very good.” She paused. “How’s the soup?”
“Fine.”
They ate in silence for several moments.
“What is the plan exactly?” Cindy asked.
“The lieutenant thinks your admirer is something of a hothead, a reasonable assumption, I would say. He’s hoping we’ll be seen together, and he’s hoping our man will take a crack at me.”
“In which case?”
“In which case I will crack him back and carry him off to jail.”
“My hero,” Cindy said dryly, and attacked an anchovy on her plate.
“I’m supposed to spend as much time with you as I can,” Kling said, and paused. “I guess we’ll be having dinner together tonight.”
“What?”
“Yes,” Kling said.
“Look, Mr. Kling—”
“It’s not my idea, Miss Forrest.”
“Suppose I’ve made other plans?”
“Have you?”
“No, but—”
“Then there’s no problem.”
“I don’t usually go out for dinner, Mr. Kling, unless someone is escorting me.”
“I’ll be escorting you.”
“That’s not what I meant. I’m a working girl. I can’t afford—”
“Well, I’m sorry about the financial arrangements, but as I explained—”
“Yes, well, you just tell your lieutenant I can’t afford a long, leisurely dinner every night, that’s all. I earn a hundred and two dollars a week after taxes, Mr. Kling. I pay my own college tuition and the rent on my own apartment—”