He stared off into the middle distance, while the other two watched him expectantly. Finally Johnson grunted and heaved himself to his feet. He scrubbed his curly grey hair with knuckles, then motioned toward Thorsen. The two men went over to one corner and began to speak in low voices, Johnson doing most of the talking and gesturing frequently. Delaney took his seat again in the club chair and wished he was with his wife.
Finally the whispering ceased. The two men came over to stand before his chair.
“Edward,” Johnson rumbled, “if we got a letter addressed to you personally, authorizing your unofficial or semi-official investigation into the death of Frank Lombard, and if this letter was signed by the Commissioner, would that satisfy you?”
Delaney looked up in amazement.
“The Commissioner? Why on earth would he sign a letter like that? He just appointed Broughton commander of Operation Lombard.”
Inspector Johnson sighed heavily. “Edward, the Commish is a man of some ability. About a middleweight, I’d guess. And he’s well-meaning and kind. All to the good. But this is the first time he’s operated in New York. He’s never had to keep afloat in a school of barracudas. Not the kind we got. He’s learning-but the question is, will they give him time to learn? He’s just beginning to realize a good executive has got to spend as much time protecting his ass as he does coping with the problems in front of him. Nine times out of ten, it’s those strong, efficient executive assistants with the long knives who do a top man in. I think the Commissioner may just be starting to realize what Broughton is doing between those farts and belches. Broughton has some palsy-walsys on the Mayor’s staff, you know. There’s also another factor. This is something never talked about in business management manuals, but it exists in the Department, in federal, state and local government, in business, and in the military. I think the Commissioner is physically frightened of Broughton. I can’t give you any evidence, but that’s what I feel. It was the source of a lot of Joe McCarthy’s power. Plenty of those old, frail Senators were physically afraid of Joe. Well, we’ve got a man, a friend-real Machiavelli type-a Deputy the Commissioner trusts who could maybe put a bug in his ear. ‘Look Commissioner, Broughton is a fine fellow-a little crude for my taste but he gets things done-and maybe he’ll bring off this Operation Lombard thing and find the killer. But look, Commissioner, wouldn’t it be wise to have an ace in the hole? I mean if Broughton falls on his face, you really should have a back-up plan in the works. Now it just so happens I’ve got this smartass Captain who right now is on leave of absence, and this smart-ass Captain is the best detective this town ever saw, and if you ask him nice, Commissioner, and write him a polite letter, this smart-ass Captain just might be willing to smell around and find Frank Lombard’s killer for you. Without Broughton knowing a thing about it, of course.’”
Delaney laughed. “Do you think he’ll go for that? Do you really think he’ll give me a letter of authorization?”
“If we git it, will you do it?”
“Yes.”
4
The following evening, as he was preparing to leave for the hospital, an envelope was delivered to his home by commercial messenger. The envelope contained a letter signed by the Commissioner, authorizing Captain Edward X. Delaney to undertake a “discreet inquiry” into the homicide of Frank Lombard. There was also a letter signed by the Chief of Patrol granting Captain Delaney an indefinite leave of absence “for personal reasons.” Delaney began to appreciate the clout swung by Thorsen, Johnson, and their friends.
He was about to call Ivar Thorsen from his home, but after dialing two digits he hung up and sat a moment, staring at the phone. He remembered the Deputy Inspector had stressed that the number he had been given was “clean.” He pulled on his overcoat, walked two blocks to a public phone booth and called from there? The “clean” number proved to be an answering service. He gave only his last name and the number of the phone he was calling from. Then he hung up and waited patiently. Thorsen was back to him within three minutes.
“I got the papers,” Delaney said. “Quick work.”
“Yes. Where are you calling from.”
“A public phone booth two blocks from my house.”
“Good. Keep doing that. Use different booths.”
“All right. Have you made any decision on an Acting Captain?”
“Not yet. Any suggestions?”
“I have a lieutenant. Dorfman. Know him?”
“No. But a lieutenant? I’m not sure we can swing it. That’s a boss precinct, Edward. It should have a captain or deputy inspector. I don’t believe there’s any precedent for a lieutenant commanding a precinct.”
“Consider it, will you? Look up Dorfman’s file. Four commendations. A good administrator. A fine lawyer.”
“Can he hack it?”
“We’ll never know until he gets the chance, will we? There’s another thing.”
“What’s that?”
“He trusts me. More than that, he likes me. He’d make a perfect contact. The man to handle the requests I’ll have for records, print identification, research, lab analysis, things like that. It could be shuffled in with the usual precinct paper. No one could spot it.”
“How much would you tell him?”
“As little as possible.”
There was a silence.
“There’s another factor,” Delaney said quickly. “I gave Broughton the idea for Operation Lombard and the homicide was in my precinct. It would be natural for him to think I was pissed-off and jealous. He’ll be suspicious of any possible interference from me. I’m guessing how his mind works from what you and Johnson told me about him.”
“You guess right.”
“Well, he’ll hear I’ve gone on leave of absence, and he’ll relax. He’ll relax even more if he hears Dorfman has been appointed Acting Captain. A lieutenant? And a man with no detective experience? Broughton will cross off my old Precinct as a potential trouble spot, and I’ll be able to use Dorfman as a contact with little possibility of discovery.”
“It’s a thought,” Thorsen said. “And a good one. Let me discuss it with-with others. Maybe we can swing it. I’ll get back to you. Anything else?”
“Yes. I know Broughton came out of patrol. Who’s straw-boss of his detectives on Operation Lombard?”
“Chief Purley.”
“Oh God. He’s good.”
“You’re better.”
“Keep telling me that. I need all the reassurance I can get.”
“When are you starting?”
“As of now.”
“Good. You’ll have the Xerox tomorrow. You understand?”
“Yes.”
“Keep me informed.”
The two men hung up without saying goodby.
Delaney took a cab to the hospital, pressed back into a corner of the rear seat, biting at his thumbnail. He was beginning to feel the old, familiar excitement. Forget his reasoning and emotions about police work His gut reaction was obvious: the chase was on and he was the hunter.
He came into her room smiling determinedly, taking from his pocket a silly little thing he had bought her: a cheap, brilliant brooch, a rhinestoned penguin she could pin to her hospital gown. She held her arms out to him; he bent to embrace her. “I was hoping you’d come.”
“I told you I would. Better?”
She smiled brightly and nodded.
“Here.” He handed her the penguin. “From Tiffany’s. A little over a hundred thousand.”
“Beautiful,” she laughed. “What I’ve always wanted.”
He helped her pin it to the shoulder of her gown. Then he took off his overcoat, pulled a chair over to the bed, sat down and took one of her hands in his.
“Truly better?”
“Truly. I think I should start seeing people. Some close friends.”