He smiled and looked at the bars before him. I gestured to Kunkle to turn the lock.
“Satisfied?”
He pushed the door open but then settled on the cell bunk with his legs crossed and his hands behind his head, feeling cocky. “What makes you think I had anything to do with that deal? It’s not like you can trace a serial number.”
“You were Haffner’s dying words. And you people have your trademarks-word gets around.”
He thought for a minute. “What’s this Ski Mask after?”
“We don’t know for sure,” I said. “We thought he might be a buddy of Davis’s-the black guy in jail-but he’s obviously connected to the girl who was killed, possibly the father of her unborn child. Whatever he is, he’s a nasty son of a bitch. He tortured Haffner.”
“To death?”
“He’s dead all right.” I saw no reason to belittle the impression.
Hill dropped his feet to the floor and rose to a sitting position. “It was a long time ago.”
Brandt smiled. “Haffner remembered-with a little help. You tell us what we want to know, and we’ll be able to spare you the same kind of help. If not, you’re on your own.”
“I’m on my own anyway. You guys obviously weren’t too useful to Ted. I’ll take my own chances.”
I turned off the floodlight. “It’s a free country, as they say. What about the deal?”
Hill rose and walked out of the cell. “I sold the stuff. I don’t know who to, though. He kept his face covered and whispered a lot-pretty corny.”
“Was there anything else about him? Young, old, tall, short-stuff like that?”
“Hard to tell, you know? It was at night, just for a couple of minutes, and he was wearing a shitload of clothes. He must have been sweating like a pig.” There was something in his eyes-a great sense of enjoyment. He knew what we were after.
I tried to indulge him. “Do we have to ask for your theory on why he was wearing so many clothes?”
His pleasure burst forth. He grinned broadly. “Could have been the hunchback.”
Kunkle muttered, “You asshole.”
I held up my hand. “You sure it was a hump? It might have been a disguise.”
“No, no. I’m sure. I mean, this guy freaked me out. He was so weird, you know? I couldn’t resist it. After we did the deal and he started to leave, I slapped him on the back, real frienck, ht="0em"›
He started for the stairs.
“You leaving?”
“Yup.”
“You may not live through the day.”
He smiled again, but this time I sensed little pleasure. “Yeah, well, the story of my life. Stay out of trouble, guys.”
We listened to his footsteps. When he reached the top, I turned to Kunkle. “Follow him. As soon as he settles down, call in and we’ll send reinforcements. If we’re lucky, we’ll keep him alive and grab Ski Mask at the same time.”
Kunkle left. Powers took the hint and followed suit after I thanked him for coming over. Brandt pulled out his pipe and began filling it. “You think Ski Mask’ll bite?”
“I’m hoping for anything; he’s under more pressure now. Maybe the best we can shoot for is just to keep them apart. The longer Ski Mask doesn’t know about the hump, the better.”
“You think this guy is still running around looking like Quasimodo?”
“Hell, I don’t know. Why don’t you call Danvers back and tell him to contact his DEA connection. It looks like we can rule out the short-term, low-dosage prednisone prescriptions-maybe that’ll speed things up a bit.” I hesitated before resuming. What I was about to say represented a major hurdle I wasn’t sure Brandt would be willing to take.
“I also think it’s time to bring in the state police.”
He busied himself lighting the pipe and setting up a smoke screen that totally obliterated his face. I’d never thought of pipes being that strategically handy.
When the smog cleared, I saw him nod his head impassively. “How do you want to use them?”
“Mostly to back up Kunkle. We could use them other places too, though.”
“Like where?”
“Like putting more pressure on Ski Mask. So far, we’ve been combing the motels and increasing patrols and talking to damn near everybody over the age of six, but he’s still been able to sit and watch, and to pop up at will. Kunkle suggested putting tails on some of us, trying to either catch him or dissuade him. It didn’t work this morning, but it was a good idea. Also, if the DEA comes through with a huge list, we’ll have that paper trail to track. The backlog of our normal work is starting to strain every desk in the department. We just need more help, period-for everything.”
Brandt nodded again. “All right, I’ll see what I can do. I might start with the sheriff ’s department, though.”
“All right. Sheriff ’s men for the noncombat stuff and state troopers to help cover Lew Hill.”
He took the pipe from his mouth and looked at me. “He really has you worked up, doesn’t he?”
“You didn’t see him with Haffner. This bastard’s a real number-a man who loves his work.”
Brandt nodded a third time. “I’ll make some phone calls.”
He led the way upstairs. At the top, looking his usual bird-dog best, was Stan Katz.
“Conspiring in the basement?”
“Be nice, Stanley. We might be nice back.”
Brandt shot me a questioning look.
“Oh?” said Katz.
“Yeah. Give me a few minutes and I’ll let you know.”
“What about the dope dealer being killed in his trailer this morning? Is is true you and Kunkle were witnesses?”
“It was a heart attack, Stan, and just hold your horses. I’ll be right back.”
I escorted Brandt to his office and shut the door behind me. He parked on the edge of his desk. “As the man said: ‘Oh?’”
“I was thinking we could do worse than invite him to the stakeout. We’ve really got nothing to lose-or at least not much. If we pull it off, we’ve given him a scoop and made a few points; if we totally screw up, he’ll find out about it anyhow and only make it tougher on us for having been excluded. He might even show us doing our job instead of standing around with our thumbs up our asses.”
Brandt shifted to sit properly at his desk and reached for the phone. “I somehow doubt that, but feel free.”
I crossed over to Maxine’s cubicle to see if Kunkle had called in yet. He hadn’t. I then told Katz to hold on for a couple of more minutes and gathered DeFlorio and Tyler into my office and told them about the tail on Lew Hill.
“Ski Mask is like nothing we’ve ever seen. We’ve got to think of him as a terrorist or something-a cold and careful killer. Don’t underestimate him and don’t make assumptions based on what you’ve learned over the years. This is a new ball game, all right? And keep in constant touch with each other, visually if possible.”
“What about additional backup in case we need it?” DeFlorio asked.
“I’m arranging for undercover state police, but I want you two ready to move as soon as Kunkle calls in. And I want Katz to go with you.”
They both looked at me slack-jawed. I held up my hand. “He’ll write about this anyway, so let’s humor him for once. But keep him out of harm’s way, okay? And don’t get too chatty-just let him know what’s up.”
Katz was waiting patiently by Maxine’s cubicle. “So, were you and Kunkle caught with your pants down or what?”
“Don’t be rude, Stanley, we’re giving you a break. You can go on a stakeout for Ski Mask as long as you keep out of the way, capish?”
“In return for what?”
“Don’t be such a cynic.”
· · ·
At nine o’clock that night, Brandt dug under the paperwork we’d spread all over his desk and answered the phone. For hours we’d been sorting through the accumulated shreds of the case, uncertain whether we were looking for something new or just nervously killing time. He listened for a moment and silently handed the receiver to me. It was Kunkle. “You better get down here. We got problems.” He sounded even more dismal than usual.