There was a bill from Netti in the office mail. It was typed on formal invoice stationery:
TO FRANK JANEK, FOR PROFESSIONAL SERVICES: One Chinese Carry-out Dinner (Payable on Demand) He laughed, carefully placed it back in its envelope, then stored it in his personal file.
That evening he sat alone at Special Squad, reading, waiting by the phone. At 7:20 it rang. It was Sue. She was whispering, excited:
"I'm at the mall, Frank, the one Janet goes to every afternoon. I'm standing at a phone bank. She's at another one, fifty feet away.,I figure she's on line with Clury. She's yakking a lot and looks upset.
About five minutes after Aaron left, she stormed out of her house, peered around, then got in her car and took off. Wait a see… she's listening… now she's nodding. He must be trying to calm her down."
"When she leaves, stay with her," Janek said. "But don't forget which phone she used. Note the time, come back in the morning, copy down the number, then go to the locals and have them subpoena records from the phone company. If she's using a credit card-"
"She isn't. I saw her feed coins to the slot."
"Then Clury's probably not too far away. Remember, he's a cop. He may figure she was trailed. He may try and come in behind you, so watch your back."
"I never thought of that."
"Be careful. If Janet doesn't head home, she may be leading you into a trap."
"What do I do?"
"Drop the tail, go back to your, motel, get a good night's sleep."
"Right." She paused. "Whadd ya think he'll do, Frank now that he knows we're on to him?"
"One of three things. He'll either run, go nuts and try to bomb us, or get in touch to see what kind of deal he can Make.
On his way out to La Guardia to pick up Aaron, he thought about the real possibility that Gelsey would have to go to prison. He knew now that he and Netti had been deluding themselves. As soon as Gelsey's story came out, more victims would come forward, more complaints would be filed, the felonies would mount up, the pressure for a sentence would grow.
Despite her assistance in trapping Kane, a fair judge would have to take into account the violence of her crimes and the ways she'd terrorized her victims.
It was after midnight when Aaron's plane touched down. He emerged tired but still high on his interview with Janet. He described it as they walked through the terminal, then across the parking lot to his Chevrolet:
"She's the cool-blonde type, but she wasn't all that cool when I got done with her. All that stuff about heavy-duty jail time-I swear, Frank, she was ready to pee in her pants."
"She denied everything."
Aaron nodded. "She bugged out her blues." He bugged out his to demonstrate. "What'd she do afterward?"
"Drove fast to a public phone in a mall."
"Clury must have told her never to call him from the house. I wonder if she still cares for him. Or if they made some kind of deal."
"The pension was the kiss-off. All she had to do was act sad at his funeral, cry a little on the commissioner's arm, then sign the cremation papers." Aaron smiled. "Come to think of it, I didn't see an um in her parlor."
"Now she knows the string's played out. The old cfime's come back to haunt."
"Think Clury'll show?" Janek shrugged. "Sue asked me the same thing.
We'll have to wait and see."
But his mind wasn't on Clury anymore. He could think only of Gelsey: her misery as she endured four or five years in a woman's prison and her state when she emerged.
The next morning Ray called from Houston.
"Evidence tests positive. Cody and Martinez just picked Collizzi up.
They're tanking him. They'll start sweating im this afternoon. Charge is capital murder. What do you want me to do?"
"You've done all you can," Janek said. "Now it's up to the El Paso police. Come home."
Sue called at eleven A.m. The night before, Janet Clury had gone straight home from the mall. In the morning, when she left for work, she looked calm, as if nothing had happened.
"Her call tracked back to an address in Crystal River, Florida, about a hundred fifty miles up the coast. The phone's listed to a Mr. Dan Dell.
I just called there to see what would happen. A lady answered.
Nice voice. She said: ' morning, Dan's Bait and Charter."
A Florida bait and charter! Every cop's retirement dream!
"Anyway, I was wondering-do you want me to go up there and check it out?"
Ten to one he's already left.
"Sure, take a look," Janek said. "But apply the KISS principle: Keep It Simple, Stupid. Nothing fancy." :'What do you consider fancy?" ' ' if I take a little picture of you, sir?" Or pretending you know something about fishing."
Sue laughed. "How about I swagger in real hutch and tell him me and my girlfriend are looking for a very private charter?"
Could work. Clury's been out nine years. Probably doesn't know we have out-of-the-closet gay detectives now.
"Sure, try that," Janek said, "but don't forget to call in. Aaron'll be here. Ray's flying in from Texas. It's all coming together. A couple more days, we ought to have it wrapped."
He borrowed Aaron's car again, drove out to Newark. On his way he asked himself: Why am I doing this? What am I looking for?
She was painting when he arrived. They talked casually. He liked sitting on her couch, talking, watching her work, while her ceiling fan slowly stoked the air. He felt comfortable with her, as if he'd known her forever, as if there weren't anything he couldn't say.
She took a break to make some tea. After sipping in silence, she turned to him with an inquiring smile.
"What are we all about?" she asked softly.
"I've been wondering myself. What do you think?"
"The Mirror-obsessed Outlaw Artist and the Cop with the Searching Eyes.
Obviously we like each other. But why? We don't have much in common."
"Does that bother you?" She smiled. "You're very special to me. You know that."
"As you are to me."
"Still, it's strange, isn't it?"
"Strange and wonderful, I think."
"It is wonderful," she agreed. "Somehow we found each other. We didn't know we existed, but we were searching for each other anyway. Two lost souls, right?" She smiled to mock the cliche. "I feel so lucky. It's as if you've freed me. Now I can change, become the person I was meant to be." She paused. "The only thing I worry about is what I can give you in return." "Don't ever worry about that," he said. "You've given me a great deal… more than you can possibly know."
Driving back in the dark, he noticed a car following, one headlight slightly dimmer than the other. He realized he'd seen this same signature several times since he'd left Richmond Park.
Am I being followed? Is it Clury? Could he possibly move so fast?
After he emerged from the Holland Tunnel, he slowed, made sure the other car was still behind, then sped uptown, turned the corner, turned again onto empty Washington street, then quickly parked, cut his lights, pulled out his revolver and slid down in his seat.
A few seconds later the other car, a battered maroon Oldsmobile, drove by. As soon as it passed, he started up again and followed.
The other driver drove slowly. He's looking for me. Then Janek noticed him weaving. Maybe he's drunk. Maybe it isn't Clury after all.
Approaching a stoplight, Janek decided to make his move. When the other car halted, he pulled up right beside it and turned to look. Timmy Sheehan stared into his face.
Janek rolled down the window on his passenger side.
"Hi, partner! Lost?"
"Hey, partner! What're you doing out so late?"
"Pull over after the light. We'll talk about it," Janek said.
Timmy pulled over. Janek parked behind. The street was silent. There were no pedestrians. It was an area of old brick warehouses, deserted at night.