"So what's the story, huh?" said the man. "She wanna come back to work or something? Well, you can tell her, forget it. And by the way, she still owes me."
"For what?" asked M. J.
"Two weeks' salary. I give her an advance, and she skips out."
"Excuse me, Mr…"
"Rick. Just Rick."
"Rick. I guess you haven't heard. Peggy Sue Barnett's dead."
He stared at her, looked at Adam, then back at her. "Aw, Christ. Now I'll never get the three hundred back." The phone rang. He went over to the desk, picked up the receiver, and slammed it down again. "That's what I get for being Mr. Nice Guy."
"You're not the least bit interested in how she died?" said Adam with undisguised disgust.
"Okay," Rick sighed. "How'd the bitch'die?"
"A drug overdose."
"I'm real surprised." Rick dropped into a chair and looked at them with utter disinterest. "So why're you here? She leave me something in her will?"
"Rick, my friend," said M. J., pulling up a chair. "We have to talk. I'm from the medical examiner, see, and I have to ask you some questions."
"You and what cop?"
"Take your pick. There's my buddy in Homicide, Lieutenant Beamis. Or maybe you'd like to meet the guys in Fraud. They'd probably like to meet you." She glanced around the office. "What is it you sell here, by the way? Bargain vacations?"
Rick sank, glowering, into his chair.
"We're in the right mood now, are we?" said M. J.
"I don't know nothing."
"Peggy Sue quit her job six months ago. Is that right?"
Rick grunted, a sound M. J. took to be a yes.
"Why did she quit?"
Another grunt, coupled with a sullen shrug. Communication worthy of a caveman.
"Was she mad about something?" asked Adam. "Did she give you a reason?"
Maybe it was the fact a man was now asking the questions; Rick finally decided to answer. "She didn't tell me anything. She just walked off the job. Called a few days later to say she wasn't coming back. She had something better going."
"Another job?"
"Who knows? The bitch was flaky, you know? One minute she's at her desk, working the phone. Then I get back from lunch and there's a note on the door sayin' she's outta here. No explanation, just-poof! Here I am, paying rent on two rooms, and I can't get anyone to man the other desk."
"She had her own office?" said Adam.
"That room over there." He pointed to a doorway. "Her own private space. Didn't appreciate it none."
"May we see the office?" asked Adam.
"Go ahead. Won't tell ya nothin'."
The adjoining room was like the first, but without a computer. There was a window that looked down on a grim back-alley view of broken glass, trash cans.
Adam opened and closed a desk drawer. "Not much in here," he said.
"She took it all with her," said Rick. "Even the pencils. My pencils."
"No papers, no notes." Adam pulled out the last drawer. "Nothing." He shut it.
"See?" said Rick. "I told ya there wasn't anything to look at. Just a desk and a telephone." He glanced at M. J., who was gazing down at the alley. "And a window," Rick pointed out. "I was generous. I let her have the view."
"And a lovely view it is," said M. J. dryly.
"Okay, so it's not the seaside. But it faces south and you get some sun. And Bolton's a quiet street so you don't get blasted away by traffic noise."
"Well," said Adam. "I guess there's not much more to see in here."
"That's what I said. You satisfied now?"
M. J. was still gazing out the window. In the alley below, a man appeared, lugging a trash bag. He dumped it in a can, slammed down the lid, and retreated back up the alley. Something was still bothering her. It had to do with this window, with Peggy Sue Barnett and the reason she'd left her job so abruptly six months ago.
She turned to Rick. "Did you say that was Bolton Street out there?"
"Yeah. Alley comes off it."
"What are the nearest cross streets?"
"To Bolton?" Rick shrugged. "Radisson's to the east. And west, that'd be, uh…"
"Swarthmore," said M. J. softly. It came to her like a lightning flash of memory: the name of the street. Its significance.
Bolton and Swarthmore. That's where my partner went down. Drug bust went sour, got boxed in a blind alley…
M. J. swung around to look at Adam. "My God, that's it. That has to be it!"
Adam shook his head. "What are you talking about?"
"There was a cop killed there! In that alley!" She glanced at Rick. "When did Peggy Sue quit her job?"
"I told ya. Six months ago-"
"I need the exact date!"
Rick went into the front office, pulled out a ledger book. "Let's see. Last call she logged was October second."
"I have to use your phone," snapped M. J., grabbing the receiver.
"Hey, no long distance."
"Don't worry, it's a local call."
Adam was shaking his head, trying to catch up with her leaps of logic. "A dead cop? How does that fit in?"
"It was blackmail," she said, punching in the phone number. "That's where Peggy Sue's money was coming from. She saw a cop get killed in that alley. And she was squeezing the killer for cash…"
"Until he refused to be squeezed any longer," Adam finished for her.
"Right. So he arranges to have a little poison slipped her way. Courtesy of the local drug dealer, Nicos… Hello? Ed?"
The voice on the other end of the line sounded harassed, "M. J.? I'll call you back, I'm already late-"
"Ed, one question. That cop, Ben Fuller. The one who arrested Esterhaus. Where was he killed?"
"Somewhere out in Watertown."
"The date?"
"That's two questions."
"The date, Ed!"
"I don't know. October sometime. Look, the parade starts in twenty minutes and I gotta get out to the limo-"
"Was it October second, Ed?"
A pause. "Could've been."
"I want you to find out one more thing."
"Now what?"
"The name of Ben Fuller's partner."
"I'd have to check-"
"Then do it."
"Yes, ma'am!" growled Ed and hung up.
She looked at Adam. "It was Ben Fuller who died in that alley. The police called it a drug bust gone sour. I think he was murdered. By another cop."
They stared at each other, both of them shaken by their conclusions. By what they had to do next.
Adam took her arm. "Let's go. We're taking this straight to the police commisioner."
"He'll be in the parade. So will everyone else."
"Then we head for City Hall. The sooner we unload this bomb, the sooner we can stop watching our backs."
"You think he knows we're on to him?"
"Are you kidding? Ed's probably griping to everyone in earshot about his ex-wife and her wild theories. The word'll be out."
"Hey!" called Rick, as they headed out the door. "What's all this with the cops? Am I gonna have trouble?"
"Not to worry," said Adam. "You, Rick, are of absolutely no interest to anyone."
"Oh. Well, that's good," said Rick.
They left the office and headed down the stairs. Their descent had suddenly taken on the panic of flight. We know too much, M. J. thought. And it could getuskilled .