"Maybe that means you'll get a promotion," Kling said. He had turned his eyes away from Marilyn, who shook a cigarette loose from her package of Virginia Slims, held a flaming match to it, her hand trembling, and then let out a furious stream of smoke.
Eileen looked at her watch.
"Have you really got the Graveyard?" she asked Kling.
"Would I kid about the Graveyard?" Kling said.
"Come on," Eileen said, "I'll treat you to a taxi."
In the taxi, Kling said, "What'd you think of her?"
"Who, the Encyclopedia Britannica?" Eileen said, and then fell into a fairly good imitation of Marilyn. "Are you familiar with Mendel's Law? Black cats and white cats, brown eyes and blue, dominant and recessive? Do you know that a great many words in the English language sound the same but are spelled differently? Like pause and paws and sent and scent. Or vice versa, like bass the fish and bass the fiddle? Did you know that Grimm's Law changes blue fairies to pink fairies? Did you know that Yo te adoro means 'I adore you' in Spanish? Did you…?"
"Is that what it means?"
"No, it means 'Would you like to play with my yo-yo?' This is one tough customer, Bert, I'm telling you, hard as nails. Did you catch the murderous intent in those baby blues when she said she'd have killed those two guys? Man, I believed her. Last time I saw eyes like that was on a guy who'd just used a Sten gun on his whole family."
"Maybe that's how you get when you're independently wealthy," Kling said.
"And, yeah, what about that?" Eileen said. "Was I dreaming, or did I hear her say, 'I have a rich father'?"
"That's what you heard."
"So how come five minutes later she's an orphan?"
"Slip of the tongue."
"Sure, because the English language is so contrary, right? Is Hal serious about her?"
"I think he's living with her."
"I hope he's not asking for more trouble than he needs," Eileen said.
"I gather you didn't like her much."
"Not much," Eileen said.
"I didn't think she was so bad," Kling said.
"Well," Eileen said, and shrugged. "One man's mead…"
"What'd you think of them?" Willis asked.
"They were okay," Marilyn said.
They were walking up toward Harborside Lane. It had stopped raining, but the night had turned very cold; you couldn't trust April in this city. She was clinging to his arm, her head bent against the wind that blew in off the river.
"Only okay?"
"Limited," she said. "Why'd Eileen take the side of those two bums?"
"She wasn't taking their side. She was taking the law's side. She's a cop. The woman did use a meat cleaver on…"
"So Eileen's ready to throw her in jail, never mind the circumstances. She ought to try spending a little time in jail herself. Then maybe she wouldn't make jokes about chopping up your Mama in…"
"She's got a heavy load to carry," Willis said. "I don't deny her any jokes she cares to make."
"Yeah, life is tough all over," Marilyn said.
"Tougher for her maybe," Willis said. "She was raped a while back, messed up pretty bad in the process."
"What do you mean?"
"A case she was working. Guy cut her and raped her. It takes a while to get over something like that. Especially if your job throws you on the street as a decoy."
Marilyn was silent for several seconds.
Then she said, "I wish you'd told me that."
"Well… it's sort of family," Willis said.
"I thought I was sort of family, too."
"I meant… well… what happened to Eileen isn't something we talk about."
"We," Marilyn said.
"The squad," he said.
She nodded. They walked in silence, turned the corner.
"I'm sorry I said that about her."
"That's okay, don't worry about it."
"Really, I'm sorry."
"That's okay."
They were approaching the house. He was thinking he had to ask her about that electric distiller, that clipping she'd saved. Had she gone out to buy that thing? Was it somewhere in the house? Had she already used it? Too many questions. He sighed deeply.
"What is it?" she said.
"I have to move the car."
"What?"
"Alternate side of the street parking. Got to move it before midnight."
"Don't you have some sort of identification on it?"
"Yes, but…"
"Some kind of cop thing?"
"I don't like breaking the law," Willis said, and smiled. "I'll just be a minute, you go on in."
"Hurry," she said, and went to the front door to unlock it.
Willis started walking up the street to where he'd parked his car.
Brown had followed them from the Chinese restaurant, keeping back a good distance, no danger of losing them, the streets were virtually empty at this time of night. Eleven-thirty, he'd tuck the girl in, wait for Delgado to relieve him fifteen minutes from now. He wondered if Willis planned to spend the night here. Was he shacking up with the Hollis woman? Was that part of the stakeout?
He was just coming around the corner when he saw Willis walking up the street toward him. He backpedaled away, ducked into the nearest doorway. What now? he wondered, and then saw Willis unlocking the door to his car. Well, well, he thought, the man ain't making it with her, after all, the man's going home to his own little—
Two shots cracked the brittle night air.
Two shots in a row, coming from somewhere in the small park across the street from the building.
Willis threw himself flat to the ground.
Brown came out of the doorway, pistol already in his hand, and started running for the park.
Another shot, and then another, bullets ricocheting off the car door above Willis's head.
"I'm with you, Hal!" Brown shouted over his shoulder. "Artie Brown!"
Insurance against Willis pumping a few slugs into his back.
Willis was off the ground now, yanking his pistol from its holster, running across the street toward the footpath Brown had already entered. He heard Brown pounding along up ahead there, heard other footfalls in the distance, someone running up the path and then thrashing into the bushes. What the hell is Brown doing here? he wondered. And realized in an instant that they'd put a tail on Marilyn.
"Police officer!" he heard Brown shout. "Stop or I'll shoot!"
Two shots in the blackness up ahead, muzzle flashes on the night. He came running up to where Brown was standing on the edge of the path, gun in hand, breathing hard, peering into the bushes.
"Did you get him?" he asked.
"No."
"He still in there?"
"I don't think so," Brown said. "Let's check it out."
They fanned out into the bushes, moving in a slow, steady, flushing pattern some twenty feet apart from each other, until finally they reached the edge of the park closest to the river.
"Gone with the wind," Brown said.
"Did you get a look at him?"
"No. Man was trying to shoot you, though."
"Tell me about it."
They began walking back through the bushes, up toward the path again.
"You on a stakeout?" Willis asked.
"Yeah," Brown said. "You on it, too?"
"No. Who set it up?"
"The Loot."
Meaning Carella had requested it.
"Better see we can find any spent cartridge cases," Brown said.
"We'll need lights," Willis said. "I'll call in."
He went out of the park and was walking toward his car when the front door of the house opened. Marilyn was standing there in a robe.
"Were those shots?" she asked.
"Yes," he said.
"Who?"
"I don't know. He got away."