“You’re playing the weak sister,” McCarthy said to Lucas. “From what you’ve said, there’re only two possibilities: You’ve got no case and you’re desperate to make one. In which case you won’t book him. Or you’ve got a case, in which case you’ll book him no matter what we say and use what he says against him.”
“McCarthy, a fellow out in the hall called you a dickhead,” Lucas said wearily. “He was right. You can’t even see the third possibility, which is why we’re all sweating bullets.”
“Which is?”
“Which is we got a good case that feels bad to a few of us. We just want to know. We’ve got pretty close to exact times on two of the attacks, real close on a third. If Mr. Smithe was out of town, if he was talking to clients, if he was in the office all day, he’d be in the clear. How can it hurt to tell us now, before we book—”
“You’re just afraid to book because of what will happen if you’re wrong.”
“Goddamn right. The department will look like shit. And Smithe, not incidentally, will take it right in the shorts, no offense.”
“Now, what the fuck does that mean?”
“He knows I’m gay,” Smithe said.
“That’s a prejudicial remark if I ever—”
“Fuck it,” said one of the interrogators. “I don’t want to hear any more.”
He stalked out of the room and a minute later Daniel stepped in.
“No deal?” he asked Lucas.
Lucas shrugged.
“No deal,” said McCarthy.
“Take him upstairs and book him,” Daniel told the remaining interrogator.
“Wait a minute,” said Smithe.
“Book him,” Daniel snarled. He stormed out of the room.
“Good work, McCarthy, you just built your client a cross,” Lucas said.
McCarthy showed his teeth in what wasn’t quite a smile. “Go piss up a rope,” he said. They left in a group—Smithe, McCarthy, and the interrogation cop. As they went, the cop turned to Lucas.
“You know the difference between a skunk dead on the highway and a lawyer dead on the highway?”
“No, what?”
McCarthy turned his head.
“There’s skid marks in front of the skunk,” the cop said. Lucas laughed and McCarthy bared his teeth again.
“Look at them down there, like lice on a dog,” Anderson said gloomily, exploring his gums with a ragged plastic toothpick. On the street below, television cameramen, reporters, and technicians were swarming around the remote-broadcast trucks parked outside City Hall.
“Yeah. Looks like Lester is going to have a full house,” Lucas said. Jennifer’s head bobbed through the swarm, headed toward the entry below them. “Got to run,” Lucas said.
He caught her just inside the entrance, dragged her protesting through the halls to his office, pushed her into the desk chair, and closed the door.
“You tipped Kennedy about the gay. You told me you wouldn’t.”
“I didn’t tip him, Lucas, honest to Christ.”
“Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit,” Lucas stormed. “You guys have washed each other’s hands before, I’ve seen you do it. As soon as Daniel told me that Kennedy had the tip, I knew it was from you.”
“So what are you going to do about it, Lucas? Huh?” She was angry now. “This is what I do for a living. It’s not a fuckin’ hobby.”
“Great goddamn way to make a living.”
“Better than renting yourself out as a stormtrooper.”
Lucas put his fists on his hips and leaned close to her face. She didn’t back off even a fraction of an inch. “You know what you did to get a break on a story? You pushed the department into booking an innocent man, which will probably kill the guy. He’s in the welfare department surrounded by women and they’ll never trust him again, no matter what anybody says. He’s a suspect, all right, but I don’t think he did it. I was trying to get them to go easy, but your fuckin’ tip pushed them into picking him up.”
“If they don’t think he did it, they shouldn’t pick him up.”
Lucas slapped himself on the forehead. “Jesus. You think all the questions are easy? Smithe might be guilty. He might not be guilty. I might be wrong about him, and if I am and if I talked the department into letting him go, he might go right back on the street and butcher some other woman. But I might be right and we’re destroying the guy, while the real killer is planning to rip somebody else. All we needed was a little time, and you snooped on a private conversation out of my house.”
“And?”
Lucas turned cool. “I’ve got to make some basic decisions about whether to talk to you at all.”
“I didn’t really need to hear that phone call at your place,” Jennifer said. “I would have gotten it anyway. I’ve got sources here you wouldn’t believe. I don’t need you, Lucas. I might just tell you to go fuck yourself.”
“I’ll take the risk. I can’t put up with spying. I am considering—considering—calling a lawyer and having him call your general manager to tell him how you got the information and threatening to file suit against the station for theft of proprietary information.”
“Lucas—”
“Get out of here.”
“Lucas . . .” She suddenly burst into tears and Lucas backed a few steps away.
“I’m sorry,” he said, miserably. “I just can’t . . . Jennifer . . . stop that, goddammit.”
“God, I’m a wreck, my makeup. I can’t do this press conference . . . . God . . . can I use your phone?” She poked at her face with a tissue. “I want to call the station, tell them to let Kathy Lettice take it. God, I’m such a mess . . .”
“Jesus, stop crying, use the phone,” Lucas said desperately.
Still sniffling, she picked up the phone and dialed. When it was answered, her voice suddenly cleared. “Don? Jen. The guy’s name is Smithe and he works for welfare—”
“Goddammit, Jennifer!” Lucas shouted. He grabbed the phone, twisted it out of her hand, and slammed it on the hook.
“I cry good, don’t I?” she asked with a grin, and she was out the door.
“Davenport, Davenport,” Daniel moaned. He gripped handfuls of hair on the side of his head as he watched Jennifer finish the broadcast.
“ . . . called by some the smartest man in the department, told me personally that he did not believe that Smithe is guilty of the spectacular murders and that he fears the premature arrest could destroy Smithe’s burgeoning career with the welfare department . . .”
“Burgeoning career? TV people shouldn’t be allowed to use big words,” Lucas muttered.
“So now what?” Daniel asked angrily. “How in the hell could you do this?”
“I didn’t know I was,” Lucas said mildly. “I thought we were having a personal conversation.”
“I told you that your dick was going to get you in trouble with that woman,” Daniel said. “What the hell am I going to tell Lester? He’s been out there in front of the cameras making his case and you’re talking to this puss behind his back. You cut his legs out from under him. He’ll be after your head.”
“Tell him you’re suspending me. What’s bad? Two weeks? Then I’ll appeal to the civil-service board. Even if the board okays the suspension, it’ll be months from now. We should be able to put it off until this thing is settled, one way or another.”
“Okay. That might do it.” Daniel nodded and then laughed unpleasantly, shaking his head. “Christ, I’m glad that wasn’t me getting grilled. You better get out of here before Lester arrives or we’ll be busting him for assault.”
At two o’clock in the morning the telephone rang. Lucas looked up from the drawing table where he was working on Everwhen, reached over, and picked it up.
“Hello?”
“Still mad?” Jennifer asked.
“You bitch. Daniel’s suspending me. I’m giving interviews to everybody except you guys, you can go suck—”
“Nasty, nasty—”
He slammed the receiver back on the hook. A moment later the phone rang again. He watched it like a cobra, then picked it up, unable to resist.
“I’m coming over,” she said, and hung up. Lucas reached for it, to call her, to tell her not to come, but stopped with his hand on the receiver.