Ed gave him thirty seconds. He watched his Movado count them off one by one, then he rose to his feet and tiptoed to the door. He unlocked it, slipped out into the hall, and eased it closed behind him. He debated half a second about relocking it, then decided to hell with it. He headed for the stairs at a brisk walk. It was all he could do to keep from sprinting.
▼
Rob was slipping into a doze when his beeper went off. "What the hell—?" He got out of the car and went to the booth on the corner. He called the precinct house and learned that Tommy Doyle was looking for him.
"Been trying to reach you all night, Harris. You on a plant or somethin'?"
"What is it, Tommy?" Rob said, yawning.
"The print report you were waiting for on that electric bill came in. They made a match on the third set of prints."
Rob was suddenly wide awake.
"Anyone we know?"
"No name, but it matched the partials they found in the hotel room on that Kelly Wade case you've been hauling around."
Rob's insides tightened. He thought he had been blowing the threat in the letter out of proportion to keep Kelly's case open. But now there was a direct link to Kelly on the night she died. So maybe this wasn't from a harmless kook. Maybe there was real danger to Kara.
"Thanks for finding me, Tom. I—damn!"
Someone in coveralls had just come out of the Kramer building and had taken off down the street at a run. It hadn't been Gates—too short, hair too dark.
Rob hung up and started after him, but he was already out of sight, up one of the side streets. He was tempted to follow, but that would leave Gates unattended. And Gates was the one he was really interested in.
Rob returned to his car and settled back with his eyes fixed on the entrance to the Kramer building.
▼
Ed ducked into the first alley he found and shucked his coverall. The February night air cut through his flannel shirt but he didn't care. He wanted to be rid of that thing.
He hurried up to Sixth Avenue and looked for a bar. A place called Edwin's beckoned from across the street. He hurried over. It was dark and smoky and almost full. Perfect. He ordered a double Absolut on the rocks. They didn't carry Citron, so he told the bartender to squeeze a lime in it.
Sweet Jesus, what a night!
Who'd have thought that Gates—he assumed that had been Gates who'd come in—would return to his office after midnight?
I could have been caught!
But he hadn't been caught. In and out with no one the wiser. He'd done it. His own Mission Impossible.
He sipped the drink and wondered what to do with what he had learned. But what had he learned?
Why would a psychiatrist be manufacturing medical histories for his patients? It didn't make sense, and he didn't know what he could or should do about it. But one thing was for sure: He had to tell Kara. And soon.
Why not now? She might be asleep, but he had to unburden himself. He had to share what he had done and learned with somebody else. He went to the pay phone and called her.
Her voice when she answered was cautious but alert.
"It's me. Ed."
"Ed?" She almost sounded as if she didn't know who he was.
"Yes. Look, I know it's late, but I've just come across some really important things that I've got to tell you about."
"Tonight? Now?"
"Yes. Can I come over?"
"I'm very tired, Ed. I don't think—"
"It's about Dr. Gates."
There was a long pause on the other end, then:
"What about Dr. Gates?"
"I've just learned something about him. I think there's something funny going on."
"I'd very much like to hear about this, Ed. Where are you?"
"In a dive on Sixth, but you don't want to come here."
"Can I meet you someplace convenient for both of us?"
Ed faced through a mental list of places that would be comfortable for Kara and wouldn't turn him away in his present state of dress.
"How about the bar at the Warwick? It's on Fifty-fourth and Sixth, about halfway between us."
"I'll meet you there in half an hour."
"Great."
Ed hung up and wondered why his previous elation seemed to have faded. If anything, it should have been boosted by the prospect of meeting Kara tonight. She'd certainly agreed readily enough after he said it had to do with Dr. Gates, but she'd sounded strange. Distant.
Well, she'd said she was tired. It had to be that.
He finished his drink and went out to the street to see if he could find a late cruising cab, otherwise it was going to be a long cold walk up to the Warwick.
▼
Rob watched the entrance to the Kramer building and pondered the identity of the owner of the third set of prints on the electric bill. Whoever had left them had been in the Plaza with Kelly on the night she died. He was getting closer. A key to the mess was dancing somewhere beyond the edges of his consciousness, just past his reach.
He also wondered who had come out of the building a while ago. That, too, gnawed at him. If only he'd been in his car at the time, he would have had a better look. All Rob could say now was that he'd carried a vague resemblance to that guy Ed who'd been hanging around Kara.
Ed… there was a strange bird. Didn't seem to be a threat. Actually seemed to be helping with the legal details. Nice of him to bring over those estate papers for Kara on Thursday. Or maybe he had the hots for her.
Rob jolted upright.
Thursday! Ed had been with Kara when she got that letter! He could have touched it. He must have touched it! He'd read it!
"Shit!"
And Ed had known Kelly! So he could have been with her the night she died! He was the guy who could fill in all the blanks.
Rob jumped out of the car and ran back to the phone. He called Kara's number. If she knew where Ed lived, or even had his home phone number, Rob could haul him in for questioning. Now!
As Kara's phone began to ring, Rob glanced up at the Kramer building. Gates be damned! Let him doodle around up there till sunrise. He could wait. This was the first real lead on this case and he wasn't going to waste any time getting to it.
Kara's phone kept on ringing. And ringing.
Tiny pulses of apprehension scattered through him. He knew she was taking sleeping pills, but the phone was right next to the bed. And he knew she was there— he'd spoken to her around midnight.
Something was wrong.
He made a quick call to Doyle, told him to pull the personal effects bag on Kelly Wade and have it ready, then he ran for his car.
▼
The Warwick bar was almost empty by the time Ed finished telling Kara of his evening's exploits. He searched her face for some sign of approval. It was slow coming, but finally a warm smile lit her features.
"You did all that for me?"
"Well, yes. I felt I owed it to you… and Kelly."
"But what if you'd been caught?"
"That's a risk I was willing to take. You've got to be ready to take a few risks or else life isn't worth much."
Ed drained his third double vodka. He was feeling pretty good. Damn good—about the night, about himself, about being here in this almost deserted bar with Kara.
"What do you think I should do, Ed? I'm so confused."
He looked at her. She was beautiful. In the dim light, despite the jeans and loose sweater she was wearing, she reminded him more of her sister than ever. But she was obviously tense. She sat across the tiny circular table, nervously twirling a key ring on her index finger. And she was asking him for advice. He tried to organize his vodka-muddled thoughts.
"As I see it, you've got two choices. You can get out of the city and put as much distance as you can between this guy and yourself." For selfish reasons, Ed didn't like that idea. It meant he wouldn't get to see her anymore. "Or… you could take the bull by the horns and go to the State Board of Medical Examiners and demand a complete investigation of this man's record keeping and practice methods."