“Except voting patterns. How do you know I’m Anglo-Saxon?”
“Your name’s Becker? That’s English-or German. Northern European in any event. Basically the same stock. By the time you get to this country, the life expectancy is virtually the same. You’ve got a good year and a half better expectancy than somebody with Mediterranean heritage.”
“How do you know my mother’s not a Greek?”
Chaney laughed. “Looking at you. Your hair, your features, your skin color, your height, your body type. You look like your ancestors were roaming northern Europe since the last Ice Age… She’s not Greek, is she?”
“No.”
“What was her maiden name?”
“Kriek.”
“German. I knew it. Don’t misunderstand me. We’re all mongrels in this country. Do a few case studies, go back more than two generations on anybody in America, and you won’t find very many who aren’t as mixed genetically as an alleycat. All the gene pools bleed into each other here. I’ve got a grandmother from Turkey-although you’d never know it. Still, certain types hold true. Give me your genealogy and I can come up with a pretty accurate picture most of the time.”
“And most of the time is good enough for an actuary, right?”
Chaney paused, wondering if his profession were being insulted.
“We deal in large numbers, if that’s what you mean. We’re not supposed to be an exact science.”
“That’s what I meant.”
“So, is there anything else you need?”
“This information, Dyce’s list. Is there any way anyone else could have compiled it? I mean anyone with a computer and a modem?”
“Well-if he knew the codes. You can tap into the White House bathroom these days if you know the code.”
“But it would be difficult?”
“Sure it would-unless you were from another insurance company.”
“Insurance companies exchange information?”
“All the time. We have to cross-check to fight fraud, for one thing. If somebody insures his wife for fifty thousand and she dies, that’s not a big event, but if he took out a fifty-thousand-dollar policy with ten other companies-hello. Suddenly you’re looking at a significant event. But the main reason we exchange information is that actuaries need the largest database possible to do the best job. We transfer information every day.”
“To the same people. Or the same computers?”
“The same computers, basically, yes. Why?”
“Could you tell if another computer tried to get at this information?”
“The database or this list?”
“The list, I would think.”
“That would be easier than protecting the whole database. Yes, I could set up an alarm that would tell me if someone tried to get into Dyce’s file.”
“Good. Please do that and notify me immediately.”
“Want to tell me why?”
“Mr. Dyce is going to want to come back for his list. Maybe not right away, but sooner or later, he’s going to have to.”
“He’d be stupid if he does.”
“Not stupid. Not stupid at all. Helpless.”
Tee noticed certain things. One was the remarkable resilience of a town like Clamden. In the week following the news of Dyce’s crimes and his subsequent escape, the townspeople had reacted with the predictable outcry of disgust, horror, and outrage-much of the latter directed at the police in general and Tee in particular for not somehow magically foreseeing Dyce’s plans and providing adequate protection to the citizenry. There was talk of getting a new chief, discussion of citizen patrols, an increased sale of locks and safety devices, demands for a curfew to safeguard the children, all the expected flurry of alarm of a people who had suddenly been made to feel insecure in their own homes. What surprised Tee was how quickly things returned to normal. After two weeks, people still asked him about the case and the so-called manhunt, but by then only with the casual interest of someone massaging an old wound. It took longer for the macabre jokes to die down than for the concern to subside. The citizens ultimately reacted to Dyce’s murders with the statistical optimism of someone who has been struck by lightning and emerged to tell about it. The incident was over and so unlikely to ever happen again that its occurrence unparted a sort of immunity from future occurrence.
Another thing that Tee noticed was that not everything returned to normal. His friend Becker was changed in ways both obvious and subtle. He seemed distracted much of the time, which was understandable. He was conducting the real manhunt, after all, but there was something more fundamentaclass="underline" Becker had lost much of the air of unruffled calm that had always distinguished him. Minor irritants annoyed him openly, his posture and demeanor suggested a different person, a frailer, warier person than the man Tee had known since youth. It occasionally seemed to Tee as if his friend were not the hunter but the man being hunted.
Becker’s visits to Cindi’s house also became more frequent. That, at least. Tee could understand. His friend’s car was parked on Cindi’s street most nights, but the hours were getting later and later so that Tee wondered if Becker was having trouble sleeping.
“Is it any of your business?” Becker asked. They sat in the coffee shop, once again ignored by Janie, the waitress.
“What did I say? All I said was, how’s it going with Cindi?”
“And I asked if it was your business.”
“It was polite conversation. You’re losing your sense of humor lately.”
Becker stared at Tee. There was no malice in his look, but an unplacable, searching quality that demanded an answer and always made Tee uneasy.
“It’s my job,” Tee continued. “Especially now. What kind of cop would I be if I didn’t notice your car when I saw it?”
“What kind?”
“Especially now. It’s not that I’m keeping tabs on you. I cruise, that’s what I’m supposed to do. I cruise neighborhoods, I test shop doors at night, I investigate cars that are parked where they don’t belong, and cars that are abandoned. It’s what I do. Especially now.”
“Especially now.”
“Now more than ever. People like to see the police going through the motions; it makes them feel comfortable.”
“Little do they know,” said Becker.
Tee wasn’t sure whether to laugh.
“Or maybe you haven’t lost your sense of humor exactly,” Tee said. “Maybe it’s just got too subtle for me.”
“Didn’t mean to disparage your fine police work.”
“If I could just point out, I was the one who noticed something funny going on in the first place.”
“And I’m the first to give you credit,” said Becker.
“I stress your finely developed sense of paranoia in my report.”
“You might try to spread the word a little broader. People in town think we’re a bunch of half-wits.”
“We?”
“Like we should have known some insurance salesman was inviting the boys in for a while and then boiling them up?”
“Notice a certain lack of local respect, do you. Tee? A chief is not without honor except in his own community. They all see what a fine job you’re doing now, though. Cruising and noting my comings and goings. That should make them feel better.”
“I just asked how you were getting along… Look, are you pissed at me about something?”
“Pissed at you? Why would I be? You’re the one who gave me my current occupation.”
“You didn’t have to do it. How did I know what it would turn into?”
“You are the one who presented me with your nephew’s wife and baby, aren’t you?”
“Present you? What’s that? She happened to be around, I thought she could be helpful. Who twisted your arm to get into it? Did anybody pressure you in any way…”
“Forget it. Tee, it’s not your fault. I’m not in a very good mood, that’s all. I haven’t been sleeping much.”
“Because of this thing?”
“My dreams keep me awake.”
“You can’t dream if you’re not asleep in the first place.”
Becker gave him that questioning look again, almost as if he were hopeful of discovering a new troth.