“Did you happen to take a bottle of champagne to her apartment?”
“Did you and another fine lady walk her over to the zoo?”
“You and another blond lady?”
“Both of you wearing black?”
“We got a doorman justitching to identify you.”
“Keep blowing, I’m beginning to enjoy it.”
“I wonder how you’ll enjoy your date with the D.A.”
“You’vegot a date with my people,” she said. “But you don’t seem to …”
“We’re dying to meet them,” Carella said.
“Tell us who they are, we’ll go pay them a visit.”
“Maybe they can explain how come you killed Wiggins who killed Hoskins who hired Ridley to fly dope for him.”
“Maybe they can explain how Ridley ended up in that lion’s cage,” Ollie said.
“No ID on her,” Carella said.
“Maybe your people can explain all that.”
“Maybe my people can have you both walking beats tomorrow morning.”
“Oooo,” Carella said. “A threat, Ollie.”
“Oooo,” Ollie said.
There was nothing he liked better than a perp trying to pull rank. Especially when the perp had tried to gun down a cop.
“You think these important people you know’ll come riding to the rescue, is that it?” he said.
“You don’t know what you’re messing with here.”
“Gee, I thought we were messing with an Attempted Murder One and a pair of Murder Twos.”
“You’d never make it to trial. They’ll step on you like a bug.”
“Who? Your important people in high places?”
The blonde smiled.
Ollie just loved it when they smiled.
“If your friends take you out of here, they’ll be harboring a fugitive,” he said. “That’s called Hindering Prosecution in the first degree, Section 205.65 of the Penal Law. Want to hear it?”
“Shove it up your ass,” the blonde said.
“Nice talk on the lady,” Ollie said. “Hindering prosecution is rendering criminal assistance to a person who’s committed a class-A felony. Murder Two is a class-A felony. So’s Attempted Murder One. If your friends whisk you out of here, they’ll be staring at a seven-year max in the slammer. Maybe that’s why they’re not here yet, huh?”
“All in good time,” the blonde said.
“Oh sure, I hear them thundering down the hallway right this minute.”
The blonde actually cocked her head toward the door.
“But maybe not,” Ollie said. “Ballistics is checking the slugs that killed the two dealers. If they match the ones we test-fire from that cannon you were carrying …”
“Save it. I’m not interested.”
“Well, let me tell you what else we’ve got,” Carella said. “It might change your mind.”
“I got shot last night. I’m tired. Goodbye, Mr. Detective.”
“We’ve got one of the guys you killed wearing a wire. We’ve got the other guy you killedtalking on that wire. Saying a lot of interesting things about a company called Wadsworth and Dodds, ever hear of them?”
“No.”
“W&D?”
“No.”
“Witches and Dragons?” Carella said. “Is that a glimmer I see in your eye? How about Mother? Do you know who Mother is?”
The blonde said nothing.
“Ever see that name on a W&D computer?”
The blonde was still silent.
“Ever hear that name anyplace?”
“Why don’t you go home, Mr. Detective?”
“People keep telling me to go home,” Carella said to Ollie.
“Maybe you should,” Ollie said.
“Yeah, but gee, I’d like to finish this, you know?”
“So finish it.”
“Here’s where we’re coming from, Miss,” Carella said, turning back to the bed. “A person is guilty of Murder in the First Degree when the intended victim is a police officer who at the time of the killing is engaged in the course of performing his official duties, quote, unquote, Section 125.27 of the state’s Penal Law. You tried to kill a police officer last night, honey.Me. Would have killed me, in fact, if another police officer—Detective Oliver Wendell Weeks here—hadn’t expediently intervened. That makes the crimeAttempt to Commit Murder, which in this case is an A-1 felony. Add to that theactualmurders of both Tito Alberico Gomez and Walter Kennedy Wiggins, and you’re looking at twenty-five years to life, three times over. That comes to seventy-five years in the slammer. You’ll be a hundred years old when you get out.”
“A hundred and five,” the blonde said.
“That’s if we don’t get a positive ID from the doorman.”
“What doorman?”
“The one who let you in Cass Ridley’s apartment building. Where you stuck an ice pick in her forehead. You can add another twenty-five for that one.”
“You think so?I think I’ll be out of here before you jerks leave the building.”
“You got shot when?” Ollie said. “Seven, seven-thirty last night? You know what time it is now? Almost one o’clock the next day. Has anyone been here to see you? Has anyone even called you? Where’s the cavalry, sweetheart? They’re riding into the sunset, that’s where they are, and leaving you to take the fall. But, hey, be loyal. Seventy-five years behind bars may seem better to you than anything we’ve got to offer.”
The blonde was looking at him.
Ollie figured he had her attention.
“Want to hear it?”
“No. I want to go to sleep.”
“Okay, go to sleep. I guess we’ll have to charge her on all three counts, Steve.”
“Maybe four if we get lucky with the doorman,” Carella said. “Too bad she can’t help us get our search warrant, huh?”
“A crying shame,” Ollie said.
“Well, what are you gonna do?” Carella said, and shrugged. “Let’s go home.”
“So long, Miss,” Ollie said, and both detectives started out of the room.
“What do you mean?” the blonde asked.
They turned back to the bed.
“About a search warrant?” she said.
“Let me be honest with you, okay?” Ollie said, which was the last thing he wished to be with her. “We know you won’t admit you’re a hitter for W&D because that would make this Murder for Hire, and that means the Valium cocktail if you’re convicted.”
“The death penalty,” Carella explained. “Lethal injection.”
“I hear it’s actually pleasant,” Ollie said, and smiled. “But we know you won’t admit that somebodypaid you for offing the redhead and the two Negroes, so all we’ve really got for sure are the pair of Twos and the One-Ten. Which is enough to put you away for seventy-five, I might remind you, ah yes, if that’s the route you choose to take.”