“From Harry Muller, who got the assignment.”
“What did he tell you?”
“I’m asking the questions. Why didn’t you tell me about this?”
“Tom asked me not to. But I was going to tell you.”
“When?”
“Now. On the trip home.”
“Yeah. Right. Why didn’t you want me to go?”
“I was looking forward to getting away with you this weekend.”
“I didn’t know about that either, until about four-thirty, Friday.”
“I’d been thinking about it.”
“You were actually scrambling to find a place to stay on short notice.” I informed her, “You’re talking to me, darling. You can’t bullshit a bullshitter who’s also a brilliant detective.”
She considered that. “Well… I just didn’t like the sound of the assignment… so I told Tom we had plans, and then I needed to make plans.”
I digested all of this and asked her, “What do you mean you didn’t like the sound of the assignment?”
“I don’t know… just instinct… something about Tom’s demeanor…”
“Can you be more specific?”
“No, I can’t… but thinking back on it, I may have read too much into what he was saying. Also, I didn’t want to be alone for the weekend.”
“Why didn’t you volunteer to come with me?”
“John, just drop it. I’m sorry I lied to you and sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
“Apology accepted, if you tell me what is the Custer Hill Club.”
“I’m not sure. But Tom said it was a social and recreational club composed of rich and powerful men.”
“I might have had a good time.”
“You were supposed to take photographs of-”
“I know all that. What I don’t know is why these men need watching.”
“I really don’t know. He wasn’t going to share that information with me.” She added, “You can assume they’re politically conservative, and maybe radically so.”
“That’s not a crime.”
“That’s all I know.”
I was on the Long Island Expressway now, heading west into the sinking sun. The Jeep smelled like a Korean produce market, and the wine was rattling around on the floor behind me.
I thought about what Kate had said, but I didn’t have enough facts to draw any conclusions. A few things stuck out, however, such as the political orientation of the Custer Hill Club and the upscale membership. The crazies on the right who actually engage in criminal activities are almost always of the lower-class variety. Their clubhouse, if they have one, is a gas station or a shack in the woods. This group was apparently something quite different.
And that’s about all I had at the moment, and if I was smart, that’s all I needed to know, and if I wanted to know more, I could ask Harry in the morning.
Kate said, “I think you’re annoyed at me for not mentioning that Tom and I discussed sending you on the assignment.”
“Not at all. I’m happy that my career is in such good hands. In fact, it’s sort of touching to think of you and Walsh discussing if little Johnny should go away for the weekend.”
“John-”
“Maybe you should have said it was okay with you, but he should check first with his wife to see if it was okay with her.”
“Stop being an idiot.”
“I’m just getting warmed up.”
“Just drop it. It’s totally unimportant. Go tell Walsh that I told you, and that you’re not happy with his management style.”
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
“Don’t be confrontational. Try being diplomatic.”
“I’ll be very diplomatic.” I asked, “Can I put him in a headlock?”
We drove in silence awhile. I realized I should speak to Harry before I confronted Walsh in the morning. I dialed Harry’s cell number on my hands-free phone.
Kate asked, “Who are you calling?”
“My emotional-stress counselor.”
After six rings, Harry’s voice came on the line. “This is Detective Harry Muller. At the tone, leave me a message and a phone number where I can reach you.” Beep.
I said, “Harry, it’s Corey. Kate wants to make hunter’s stew. I got potatoes, vegetables, and red wine. One of us has to run over a deer for the rest of the recipe. Call me ASAP.”
I hung up and said to Kate, “That surveillance could have been a career builder, if I didn’t get eaten by a bear.”
“Maybe that’s why Tom wanted you to go.”
“To help my career, or get me eaten by a bear?”
“Do you have to ask?”
I smiled. We held hands, and she turned on the radio to an easy-listening station. We made small talk on the way back to the city.
As we approached the Midtown Tunnel, the lit skyline of Manhattan came into view. Neither Kate nor I commented on the missing Twin Towers, but we both knew what we were thinking.
I remember that one of my first coherent thoughts after the towers were hit was that a man who pulls a knife on you doesn’t have a gun, and I recall saying to a cop next to me, “Thank God. This means they don’t have a nuclear bomb.”
The cop replied, “Not yet.”
PART VIII
In America there are factions,
but no conspiracies.
– Alexis De Tocqueville
Democracy in America (1835)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
It was Columbus Day, a special day to celebrate a dead white male stumbling onto a continent on his way to someplace else. I’ve had similar experiences coming out of Dresner’s bar.
We were dressed casually today; I had on comfortable loafers, black jeans, a sports shirt, and a leather jacket. Kate was also wearing jeans, with boots, a turtleneck, and a suede jacket. I said, “Your handbag doesn’t match your holster.”
“Well, then, I need to buy a new handbag today.”
I should learn to keep my smart mouth shut.
Kate and I exited our apartment house on East 72nd Street, and Alfred, our doorman, hailed us a cab.
Holiday traffic in Manhattan was light, and we made good time down to 26 Federal Plaza.
It was a beautiful, clear, crisp fall day, and I hummed a few bars of “Autumn in New York.”
Kate asked me, “Do you know if Tom Walsh will be in today?”
“No, but if you hum a few notes, I might recognize it.”
“You’re a jerk.”
“I think that’s well established.”
The taxi driver, a fellow named Ziad Al-Shehhi, was speaking on his cell phone in Arabic.
I put my finger to my lips and leaned forward. I whispered to Kate, “He’s talking to his Al Qaeda cell leader… he’s saying something about Columbus Day sales at Bergdorf’s.”
She sighed.
Mr. Al-Shehhi signed off, and I asked him, “Do you know who Christopher Columbus is?”
He glanced in his rearview mirror and replied, “Columbus Circle? Columbus Avenue? Where you want to go? You say Federal Plaza.”
“You never heard of the Niña, the Pinta, and the Santa María?”
“Sir?”
“Queen Isabella, for God’s sake? Are you marching in the Columbus Day Parade?”
“Sir?”
“John. Stop it.”
“I’m just trying to help him with his citizenship test.”
“Stop it.”
I sat back and hummed “Autumn in New York.”
It being a Federal holiday, the Federal Anti-Terrorist Task Force was not fully open for business, but Kate had decided to go in anyway to keep me company and catch up on paperwork. We’d have lunch together, then she’d leave to catch the Columbus Day sales.
Even when we’re working the same schedule, we don’t always travel to work together. Sometimes, one of us takes too long with our makeup, and the other one gets impatient and leaves.