“For example.”
I interrupted here. “For example, we pretty much know Ski Mask got this whole thing started because he wanted the investigation reopened; what we don’t know is why. We’ve also got a pretty good idea that he’s not the only player in this game-there may be others whose motives are even murkier. Now if we just dump all we know on the table without playing with it first-at least for a while-we run the risk that Ski Mask or the other guys will recognize something we don’t and will proceed on their own, in private. It seems obvious right now that Ski Mask at least needs us to do his homework. If we don’t maintain that role, and allow him to dispense with us, we’ll either be left with the strong suspicion that we have the wrong man in jail, but with no way to prove it, or we might have a growing stack of bodiesta us to do s for which we’ll have no explanation. Either way, we’ll look like a traffic cop who’s being totally ignored by the traffic. If you’re worried about lawsuits, that’s when I’d advise running for cover.”
Wilson passed his hand across his eyes. “God. We’re not geared for this. Okay, Tony, I’ll call a special session for this afternoon or tonight-as soon as possible. You tell them what you want. But pretend it’s all you’ve got, will you? I mean, it’s not inconceivable that some of them might try to sue you for withholding vital information if they found out about it. Right, Bob?”
Denby nodded. “Or you for conspiring with him.”
I tossed Denby a salute. “Thank you, Robert.”
“He asked.”
Wilson stood up. “All right, all right. Let’s just do it and hope it doesn’t all blow up in our faces. Let me know how the meeting with Katz goes. It would be a big help if we got him to cool his jets a bit.” He got to the door and stopped before opening it. “Needless to say, gentlemen, this conversation is not to be repeated, right?” He stuck his finger in Brandt’s direction. “And Tony, never again-my playing dumb for you is over.”
Brandt, Manierre and I stayed behind.
“You certainly were chatty,” I said to Manierre.
He smiled. He was a large, gentle, grandfatherly sort, always immaculate in uniform, looking like the stereotype of the friendly cop from the 1950s, which he was. “Oh, I’m just a goldfish around you sharks.”
“Impressive, were we?”
“I was thrilled. It reminded me of Military Intelligence.”
Brandt tilted his chair back against the wall. “I wanted Billy to know what was going on.”
“Let me know when you find out.”
“I also got all those warrants and thought Billy’s men might be of some help. I told him what they were all about.”
“Can you spare anyone or do we pull in the state police?”
“How many are you putting onto it?”
“Everybody.”
“How about three from the morning shift and two each from the other two?”
“Great. What’s the story on Susan Lucey, by the way? Did she ever call us, or did she go straight to the newspaper?”
“She called for you, but no one knew where you were. She wouldn’t talk to anyone else and wouldn’t say what was wrong. I don’t know how she got together with Katz. Where were you, anyway?”
“With Martha Murphy. I forgot to call in. Where’s Lucey now?”
“She’s at home. We tracked her down after we read about the attack, but she refused to talk. There wasn’t much more we could do.”
“How bleft="0em" wiadly did he beat her?”
“I’ve seen worse. It wasn’t the beating, really. I think he scared the living daylights out of her.”
Brandt handed me the warrants. “Why don’t you guys set all this up? Use the interrogation room if you need space.” We both rose. As I put my hand on the doorknob, he added, “Don’t wander away without checking back. I’m going to try to set up a meet with Katz and his boss as soon as possible.”
Manierre and I gathered our troops. Excluding ourselves, we had six men. Between us, we had to request and search through the files of four travel agents, eight car-rental agencies, one airline, two taxi services, two bus companies, and one railroad. Each man took one warrant and headed out the door. Mine was for the Good Times Travel Agency. First, however, I went to my office to use the phone.
My first call was to the hospital to check on the blood sample Floyd Rubin had left there the day before. He was a type O, the same as Bill Davis, which ruled him out as the fetus’s father. Technically, it also meant he could be the semen depositor, pending an analysis by Kees, but I felt on safe ground ruling that out. It was a character judgment, but I was sure Floyd Rubin didn’t have it in him to kill this particular woman.
The second call was to Don Hebard at the Boston Police Department. He had been on our force about ten years ago but had found it too tame and uninteresting. Since his move to the city, he’d had his share of complaints, but never those two. I arranged to meet with him around 11 P.M. at Boston’s police headquarters downtown, after the usual chaos in their records department had subsided to a murmur.
The intercom buzzed a minute after I’d hung up. It was Brandt. “I’ve got Katz and Bellstrom in my office. You want to come over?”
“Christ. That was fast.”
“We’re a hot item.”
I crossed to the south side of the building and joined them. Katz was standing nervously by the window, as if waiting for an accident. His boss was sitting with his legs stretched out in front of him. Dick Bellstrom had been editor of the Reformer for over fifteen years. He was a rumpled moderate Democrat with good common sense, and he had a finger on just about every pulse in town. He also had a closet sense of global outrage that would pop out on occasion on the editorial page. Despite his laid-back looks, he was not a man asleep at the wheel.
I nodded to both of them and took a chair.
Brandt opened. “It will be no surprise to either of you that I was hoping we could talk a little about Kimberly Harris. First off, I’d like to congratulate Stan on his article this morning. It was very flashy and mostly accurate. It also caused a bomb to go off at the town manager’s office.”
Bellstrom chuckled. “Is he rallying the troops for a little damage control?”
“I’ll let him tell you what he’s doing. I don’t consider the article damaging. I do have my concerns, though.”
“I bet,” Katz said.
“Before I go on, I’d like you both to consider this consi
Katz looked at Bellstrom, who just nodded, still smiling.
“It is true we’ve reopened the Harris case. Certain discrepancies were discovered by Joe here that were missed the first time around. So far, nothing indicates that Bill Davis didn’t commit the murder, but some things have raised the possibility that he may not have been the only suspect.”
“Are you saying if you keep pushing at that possibility, you might come up with a different killer?”
“Maybe.”
“I can see why Wilson’s getting sweaty palms.”
“Well, he’s a politician. Sweaty palms are his business.”
“Still, they might cost you your job.”
Brandt nodded. “Mine and a lot of other people’s. But that’s the luck of the draw. If, in fact, we didn’t do our homework the first time on this, maybe a few heads ought to roll. The point is, we’ve come to a very dicey crossroads in this investigation, and I thought it might be a good idea for the four of us to get together and maybe come to some sort of understanding.”
“In other words, butt out of your business,” Katz said. Bellstrom laughed and reached out to pat him gently on the arm.
“Down, boy, down.”
Brandt resumed. “There was a lot missing from this morning’s story, a lot that would give it more coherence and that might also reduce some of the hysteria. People are starting to see this Ski Mask as a marauding cutthroat, randomly knocking people off. In fact, he’s being very methodical and has but one goal in mind. Now, I would love to share as much as we’ve got on him with you in the hope of setting the public’s mind more at ease.”