"No, not that. Sensitive to emotions, feelings, the way people behave.
We've been asking everyone if they noticed any change recently in Doctor Ellerbee's manner. The reason is to find out if he was being threatened or blackmailed or anything like that. All the men we asked said they saw no change. But so far, three women have said yes, they noticed a change.
They don't agree on how he changed, but all three said there was a difference in his manner in the last six months. That's why I asked you if women are more sensitive to that sort of thing than men."
"Yes," Monica said, "we are."
Five hours later, when Delaney had finished bringing his files up to the minute and Monica had long since cleaned up the dinner dishes, he came out of his study and asked, "Do you know anyone who's under analysis?"
She looked up at him.
"Yes, Edward, I know two or three women who are in therapy."
"Well, will you ask them how they pay? I mean, do they fork over cash or a check after every session or does the doctor bill them by the month?
I'm just curious about how the shrink's money comes in."
"You think that has something to do with Ellerbee's murder?"
"I don't know. There's so much I don't know about this case. Like how does a psychiatrist get patients? Referrals from other doctors? Or do patients walk in off the street or use the Yellow Pages? I just don't know."
"I'll ask around," Monica promised.
"I suspect every case is different."
"I suspect the same thing," he grumbled.
"Makes it hard to figure percentages."
And, four hours later, when they were in their upstairs bedroom preparing for sleep, he said, "I haven't even looked at the Sunday Times. Was there anything on the Ellerbee case?"
"I didn't notice anything. But there's an interesting article in the magazine section about new colors for women's hair.
Would you like me to get pink streaks, Edward?"
"I'd prefer kelly green," he said.
"But suit yourself."
"Monster," she said affably and crawled into her bed.
"You know what I think?" he said.
"I think absolute craziness and absolute normality are extremes, and very few people fit into either category. Most of us suffer varying degrees of abnormality that can range from mild eccentricity to outright psychosis. Look at that article on hair coloring. I'll bet a lot of women are going to dye their hair pink or orange or purple.
That doesn't make them all whackos."
"What's your point, Edward?"
"This afternoon I said those patients we've been questioning don't live in my world. But that's not true; they do live in my world. They're just a little farther along toward craziness than I am, so I find it difficult to understand them."
"What you're saying is that we're all loonies, some more, some less."
"Yes," he said gratefully.
"That's what I mean. I've got to keep in mind that I share the patients' queerness, but to a milder degree."
She turned her head to stare at him.
"Don't be so sure of that, buster," she said, and he gave a great hoot of laughter and climbed into her bed.
I stopped at the precinct on my way over," Boone said on Monday morning.
"Talked to the Sergeant handling paperwork for Suarez's investigation.
He says the new people will be here by nine o'clock. Gave me a copy of the roster. He wasn't happy about losing them."
"No," Delaney said, "I don't imagine he would be."
"You don't think Chief Suarez will send us six dummies, do you, sir?"
Jason T. Jason asked.
"Sabotage?" Delaney said, smiling.
"No, I don't think he'll do that. Not with Deputy Thorsen looking over his shoulder.
But if any of these men don't work out, we'll ask for replacements."
"They're not all men, sir," Boone said.
"Five men and a woman. And one of the guys is a black-Robert Keisman.
You know him, Jose?"
"Oh, sure. He's a sharp cat; you won't need a replacement for him. They call him the Spoiler because for a time there he was assigned to busting bunco artists and three-card-monte games in the Times Square area. One of the guys he grabbed screamed, "You're spoiling all our fun!" and the name stuck.
You know any of the others, Sergeant?"
"I've worked with two of them. Not much flash, but they're solid enough.
Benny Calazo has been around a hundred years. He's slowing down some, but he still makes all the right moves. The other guy I know is Ross Konigsbacher.
He's a dick two. They call him Kraut. He's built like a dumpster, and maybe he likes to use his hands too much. But he's thorough; I'll say that for him. The other people I don't know."
"All right," Delaney said.
"Let's get set up for this. We're going to need more chairs in here-five more should do it."
They carried in chairs from the living room and kitchen and arranged them in a rough semicircle facing the desk in the study. They also brought in extra ashtrays.
"I was going to let them read my reports on the six patients," Delaney said, "but I decided not to. I don't want them prejudiced by my reactions to those people. We'll just give them a brief introduction, hand them their assignments, and turn them loose. I'm hoping we can get them out on the street by noon. You two decide who you want to partner first, then switch around from day to day."
The new recruits began arriving a little before 9:00 A.M. Sergeant Boone served as doorman, showing them where to hang their coats and bringing them back to the study to introduce them to Delaney and Jason Two.
By 9:15, everyone was present and Boone closed the doors. Delaney had hidden his glasses away, firmly believing wearing spectacles while issuing orders was counterproductive, being a sign of physical infirmity in a commanding officer.
"My name is Edward X. Delaney," he said in a loud, forceful voice.
"Former Captain, Commander of the Two-Five-One Precinct, and former Chief of Detectives prior to my retirement several years ago. As you probably know, I am assisting Chief Suarez in his investigation of the Ellerbee homicide.
Are you all familiar with that case?"
They nodded.
"Good," he said.
"Then I won't have to repeat the details.
By the way, you can smoke if you like."
He waited while a few of them lighted cigarettes. Detective Brian Estrella, a string bean of a man, took pipe and pouch from his jacket pockets and started slowly packing the tobacco.
Delaney told them that the first job of this "task force," as he called it, was to investigate six,of the victim's patients who had a history of violence. He emphasized that these people were not yet considered suspects, just subjects worth checking out in depth. Later they might have to investigate other of Ellerbee's patients.
"The first thing you'll want to do," he said, "is to run them through Records and see if any of them have sheets." He said that eventually each detective would be assigned to one patient. But for the first few days, they'd be moved around, meeting the patients, questioning them, digging into their backgrounds and personal lives.
"We're hoping," he continued, "you will each find one subject who will think you simpatico and talk a little more freely. Now let me give you a rundown on the people we're dealing with – " He was gratified to see all the detectives take out their notebooks and ballpoints.
He delivered brief summaries of the six patients.
When he finished, he turned to Boone.
"Anything to add, Sergeant?"
"Not about the people, sir; I think you've covered what we know. But the hammer…"
"I was getting to that."
Delaney told them that the murder weapon was apparently a ball peen hammer.
It had not been found, and none of the six subjects had admitted owning such a tool. He urged them to make a search for the hammer an important part of their investigation.