“I'll tell you what interests me about that," I said. “I wonder why Mr. Hatch told Lieutenant Rowley to order me out of town and rough me up if it looked like I wasn't going to obey."
Hatch's voice was low and measured. “I don't give Rowley orders, because Rowley doesn'ttake orders from me."
"The lieutenant is a hard man when it comes to orders." Mullan sounded more than ever like an Irish bartender. "Did you have words with Mr. Dunstan, Lieutenant?"
Rowley's dead eyes met mine. “I made sure he knew he was supposed to stick around."
"Do we need to listen to more of this crap?" Hatch said.
Mullan had been eyeing Rowley in a speculative manner, and Rowley had been pretending not to notice. "Mr. Dunstan, are you willing to accompany us to St. Ann's? Mr. Sawyer, the security guard who was injured during the break-in, is being held in the ICU. If you refuse, you will be taken to the station, go through the procedures all over again, and then be escorted to the hospital. If you come with us now, Mr. Sawyer will either identify you or put you in the clear."
“I'll come," I said, hoping that the guard had not had anything like a good look at Robert. "But you should know that Mr. Sawyer and I had a short conversation while he was letting himself into the building on Friday evening."
Rowley and Hatch erupted. They erupted all over again after I explained how I had happened to talk to Earl Sawyer. I had been casing theCobden Building, I was laying the groundwork for the case that any identification now was mistaken.
"Let's see what our victim has to say." Mullan opened the door.
“I'mthe victim here," Hatch said. He marched out like a general at the head of his troops.
•65
•Treuhaft opened a rear door of the patrol car, and Mullan gestured me in, Stewart Hatch moved up beside him. "You want to get your Mercedes out of this neighborhood, Mr. Hatch," Mullan told him. Hatch grunted and spun away. Mullan followed me into the back seat. Rowley got in beside Treuhaft, shifted sideways on the front passenger seat, and grinned at me. "What were you supposed to find? Did your friend the lady D.A. give you a list of files?"
“It wasn't me, Lieutenant," I said.
"You're a computer geek, aren't you?"
“I know how to write programs. Whatever it would take to convict Stewart Hatch is a mystery to me, and he can't be dumb enough to leave it on a hard disk."
“I was hoping for peace and quiet," Mullan said. "Let's all get together and make a great big effort."
•Rowley pushed the button for the elevator, and a few couples gathered in the familiar corridor. I felt as though I had gone back in time—everything, even the visitors in their shorts and T-shirts, looked exactly the same. The people with us recognized Stewart Hatch. Like a movie star, he was used to being recognized. Following Hatch's aristocratic example, we sailed through the swinging doors. Nurse Zwick goggled at Hatch and blinked when she saw me, but instead of sending us out to wash our hands, she darted around the desk and led us toward the far side of the unit.
Yellow tape sealed off the compartment where the despised Clyde Prentiss had languished. Beneath the curtain, loops of dried blood covered the floor. I asked what had happened.
“It was terrible," said Nurse Zwick. "Mr. Dunstan, I'm so sorry about your mother."
June Cook strode toward us. "You want Mr. Sawyer, I gather? I'd like to ask why."
"We want him to look at Mr. Dunstan," Mullan said.
The head nurse gave him a doubtful nod. "Mr. Sawyer's condition is stable, but he is still seeing double as a result of concussion. I'd strongly advise waiting another twenty-four hours."
"My doctor says he's healthy enough to make an identification," Hatch said. “I imagine you know who I am. And I'm sure you're acquainted with Dr. Dearborn's reputation."
June Cook was as valiant as I remembered her. “I imagine everyone on this floor recognizes you, Mr. Hatch. And I have the greatest respect for Dr. Dearborn, but his evaluation was made on the basis of a telephone conversation."
"Which led him to conclude that Sawyer is fit enough to make an identification."
June Cook's eyes flicked at me, then back at Hatch. "You can spend ten minutes with my patient. But if he makes an identification in his present state, I will have something to say about it in court."
Hatch smiled.
I asked her what had happened to Clyde Prentiss.
"Mr. Prentiss suffered fatal knife wounds," she said. "Nobody saw anything. Mr. Hatch's friends on the police force seem to be as baffled as we are."
“Imagine, a thing like that in this well-run hospital," Hatch said.
June Cook went through the curtain. Treuhaft obeyed a silent command from Mullan and stayed outside when she returned to wave us in.
The old man in the bed glared at our invasion through glittering eyes surrounded by an interlocking network of bruises. A cone-shaped structure had been taped over his nose, and his mouth described a downturned U. He glanced back and forth as Mullan and I went up one side of the bed, Hatch and Rowley the other. I wondered how many people he saw.
"Nice of you to drop by, Mr. Hatch."
Hatch tried to pat his hand.
Sawyer pulled his hand away. “I talked to your doctor a couple hours ago. He wants me to go to Lawndale, but the only place I'm going is home. You know how much it costs to rent space in an ICU?"
"Earl, your costs are taken care of," Hatch said. "Don't worry about anything. We'll work something out."
“I got no health insurance and no pension plan," Sawyer said. "You want to talk about working something out, let's work it out now, in front of witnesses. How do I know I'll ever see you again?"
"Earl, this is not the time to discuss business." Hatch grinned at the two cops. "We'd like you to look at the man in the blue shirt on the other side of the bed and tell us if you recognize him."
"You used the word 'business,' " Sawyer said. "Considering I got injured on the job, what are we talking about? You agreed to cover the medical expenses. Health insurance would have been a better deal, but I'm not complaining. In fact, I'm grateful."
"Thank you," Hatch said. "Can we get down to the present business, Earl?"
"Present business is what I'm talking about. I put in fifteen years with you, and some guy comes along and pounds the bejesus out of me. I'm sixty-five years old. You know what would be right? A lifetime pension at seventy-five percent of my salary."
"Earl, we can't—"
"Here's another option. A one-time settlement of twenty-five thousand dollars. You'd probably come out ahead that way."
Hatch stared up at the dim ceiling of the ICU. "Well, Earl, I hadn't really expected to get into a negotiation here." He sighed. Mullan and Rowley were both eyeing him. “If you think a settlement like that would suit you, you got it. It's the least I can do to express my gratitude for your years of service."
Sawyer nodded at him. “I'm glad we're in agreement, Mr. Hutch. You'll cover my medical bills, and the check for twenty-live grand will be waiting for me at your front desk by ... what day is this? Sunday? By Wednesday morning."
Hatch raised his arms in defeat. "Earl, I could use you on my team. All right, Wednesday morning."
"You had me on your team, Mr. Hatch. That's what you're paying for. Who am I supposed to identify? Him?"
Hatch moved away from the bedside, shaking his head. Mullan said, "You've already had an opportunity to take a look at him, Earl, but I want you to look again and tell us if he resembles the man who assaulted you in the Cobden Building."