“That’s right.” Calesian smiled easily. “And made one another right away.”
“What’s your job with the cops?”
Calesian’s smile became slightly self-mocking. “I’m a Detective First Grade,” he said. “I work out of the Organized Crime Squad downtown.”
Turning to Lozini, Parker said, “Is he the top cop you’ve got?”
“They don’t come much higher,” Lozini said. It was clear he didn’t want Calesian rubbed the wrong way.
“But you don’t have anybody higher,” Parker said.
Calesian, speaking mildly to show he wasn’t offended, said, “That’s right, I’m their top man.”
Lozini said, “What’s the point, Parker? So what?”
Parker said to Calesian, “Wouldn’t O’Hara go to you?”
There was a little silence while everybody worked out what Parker had just said, and then Calesian’s smile drooped like a mustache and he said, “I’d prefer them with a little padding around them.”
“I’m just asking the question,” Parker said.
“You want to know if I’m the one who wound up with the money? No, I’m not.”
Parker shrugged. “O’Hara walked out of that amusement park knowing where the money was,” he said. “And knowing he’d need help to get it. Is he going to talk to one of Lozini’s people? Not a chance. He’ll talk to a cop. Aren’t you the cop he’ll talk to?”
“Not necessarily,” Calesian said. “In fact, not even likely. I never had any direct dealings with O’Hara myself; there are layers and layers, you know.”
Ted Shevelly said, “Wait a minute. Let me go back to this question of how much O’Hara got. Harold, you say you looked into the man’s finances, and the most spread you’ll give him is three or four thousand, is that right?”
Calesian nodded. “He absolutely got no more. Maybe less.”
Shevelly said, “I take it what you’re doing is checking his bank accounts and charge accounts and looking into his major purchases in the last two years, like a car or whatever.”
“That’s right.”
“What if he didn’t do it that way? What if he took three thousand off the top for expenses, put the rest in a plastic bag and buried it in the backyard?”
“Wrong MO,” Calesian said. “People have patterns, and O’Hara’s pattern was to spend whatever he had. That’s how he wound up on the take in the first place, by spending ahead of himself. He was still in debt when he died.”
Shevelly said, “He wouldn’t change his pattern, if it was important?”
“No. O’Hara didn’t have the imagination for that.”
Parker said to Calesian, “I thought you never had direct dealings with the guy. You sound like you know him.”
Calesian’s smile flickered on and off again. “One of the ways I help Al,” he said, nodding toward Lozini, “is to check into, uh, defectors from the ranks. If a law officer puts himself on Al’s payroll, it can be for one of two reasons: either he’s on the take, or he’s a plant.”
Lozini said, brusquely, “Harold tells me if I’m getting a plant.”
“Do you get any?”
“A lot of this town,” Calesian said, “is on the square. It isn’t all sewed up, by any means.”
“God knows,” Lozini said.
“There’s also the state CID,” Calesian said, “and even the Federals every once in a while.”
”You can’t put your guard down for a minute,” Lozini said.
Calesian said, “I can give you a thumbnail on every cop in this city who buys his hamburgers with Al’s money. That doesn’t mean I have dealings with them. A lot of them I never even met.”
“All right,” Parker said. “O’Hara wouldn’t come to you because he didn’t know you.”
“He didn’t know me well enough,” Calesian corrected. “We’d seen each other around.”
“Who did he know?”
Calesian spread his hands. “A dozen people. You think there’s a chain of command? There isn’t, not really. O’Hara could have gone to any number of people for help. He might even have done it himself, with just his partner, his squad-car partner.”
Parker remembered the squad-car partner—a mouse, afraid of himself. “No,” he said. “I don’t see the two of them doing it on their own.”
“Particularly,” the attorney, Walters, said, “if O’Hara wound up with so little of the proceeds.”
Shevelly said, “Still, the partner could have been in on it. Any chance he’s the one did for O’Hara?”
“Not the same man,” Calesian said. “I don’t remember who the partner was two years ago, but it was a different man this time.” With a little grin toward Lozini, he said, “Not one of ours.”
Parker said, “Let’s look into that other partner, the one from before. He might know what O’Hara did or who he saw.”
“I’ll find out about him,” Calesian said.
Nate Simms, the accountant in the bright colors, said, “Excuse me. May I make a comment?”
Everybody looked at him. Lozini said, “Naturally, Nate. Go ahead.”
“I wonder,” Simms said, taking his time, getting his phrases exactly the way he wanted them, “I wonder if we’re going about this the right way. I wonder if perhaps we aren’t rushing forward, when what we ought to do instead is stop a minute and think.”
Lozini said, “Go ahead, Nate. What do you mean?” From the intense way he was watching Simms, it was clear that Lozini respected the man’s opinions and judgments, that whatever Simms said would have an effect on Lozini’s actions.
“As you know, Al,” Simms said, “we have this election coming up in just three days.”
“Don’t I know it,” Lozini said.
“And we also have other problems.” Turning to Parker, he said, “In addition to being Al’s personal accountant, I take care of a few other areas, and one of my areas is policy. You know, the numbers.”
Parker nodded. “I know.”
“Policy has never been a major source of income in this city,” Simms said, “because we just don’t have enough poor people. We’re above the national average in family income, and in employment rate. We don’t have the large sections of low-income housing that you need if you’re really going to run a large-scale policy operation.”
“Go ahead, Nate,” Lozini said. “Parker doesn’t need all that.”
“I wanted him to understand,” Simms said, “that I’m not running a huge operation there.” Back to Parker again, he said, “An accountant is what I am. If policy were big in Tyler, someone else would be in charge.”
“I get the point,” Parker said.
“So,” Simms said, “I can only talk from one small area of interest. But from my area of interest, this is a bad time to get involved in anything that could cause a great deal of trouble and expense and public involvement. Policy is down, it’s been down for the last three years and getting worse every year. We don’t have the cash reserves we once had, and we don’t have as secure a hold on the legitimate side as we once had.”
Lozini said, “I already said all that. Trouble coming in from everywhere, and Parker is what made me see it.”
“That was good,” Simms said. “I don’t deny that, Al, the stirring up was a good thing, it made us all aware of problems that had been creeping up on us with nobody paying any attention. What I’m saying is, we don’t want—”
The phone rang. Parker, looking at his watch, said, “That’s for me.”
Lozini gave an angry-ironic hand gesture, inviting Parker to pick up the receiver himself. He said, “Tell him it’s okay now, will you?”
Parker answered, saying, “Yes.”
“Everything all right?”
“Yes,” Parker said. If things had been wrong—a gun to his head, for instance—he would have said fine.
“Good,” Grofield said.
“This won’t take much longer,” Parker said. “I’ll see you where and when we talked about.”