"Yes, I think you are right. I am not a betting man, but if I was, I would bet on you, Mr. Delaney. I have a good feeling that you will succeed. Now I have a favor I would like to ask of YOU."
"What's that?"
"I would like it if we could call each other by our Christian names."
"Of course, Michael."
"Thank you, Edward."
"And I'm Monica," she said loudly.
They all laughed, and Delaney went into the kitchen for another round of drinks.
After the Chief had left, Delaney came back into the living room and sprawled into his chair.
"What do you think of him?" he asked.
"A very nice man," Monica said.
"Very polite and softspoken. But he looks headed for a burnout. Do you think he's tough enough for the job?"
"It'll make him or break him," Delaney said roughly.
"Headquarters is a bullring. Turn your back for a second and you get gored. Monica, when I was telling him what we're doing in the Ellerbee case, was there anything special that caught your attention? Something that sounded false? Or something we should have done that we haven't?"
"No," she said slowly, "nothing in particular. It sounded awfully complicated, Edward. All those people…"
"It is complicated," he said, rubbing his forehead wearily.
"In the first stages of any investigation, you expect to be overwhelmed by all the bits and pieces that come flooding in.
Facts and rumors and guesses. Then, after a while, if you're lucky, they all fall into a pattern, and you know more or less what happened. But I admit this case has me all bollixed up.
I've been trying to keep on top of it with reports and files and time schedules, but it keeps spreading out in more directions.
It's so complex that I'm afraid I may be missing something that's right under my nose. Maybe I'm getting too old for this business."
"You're not getting older," she said loyally, "you're getting better."
"Keep telling me that," he said.
During the next two days, the disorder in the Ellerbee case that had troubled Edward X. Delaney showed signs of lessening.
"It's still confusion," he told Sergeant Boone, "but it's becoming organized confusion."
Driving his little task force with stern directives, he was able to move them around so each had the chance to eyeball several patients. By Wednesday night, Delaney, Boone, and Jason were able to achieve optimum pairings of detective and subject. They went like this: Benjamin Calazoisaac Kane.
Robert Keisman-Harold Gerber.
Ross Konigsbacher-L. Vincent Symington.
Helen K. Venable-Joan Yesell.
Timothy Hogan-Ronald J. Bellsey.
Brian Estrella-Sylvia Mae Otherton.
"If it doesn't work out," Delaney told his people, "we'll switch you around until we start getting results."
Brian Estrella, the pipe-smoker, hoped he wouldn't be switched from Sylvia Mae Otherton. The woman fascinated him, and he thought he could do some good there.
On the morning he started out to meet her for the first time, his horoscope in the Daily News read: "Expect a profitable surprise." And as if that wasn't encouraging enough, his wife, Meg, called from the nursing home to report she was feeling better, her hair was beginning to grow back in, and she would be home soon.
Which was, Estrella knewa lie-but a brave, happy lie all the same.
Sergeant Boone had warned him what to expect, but still it was something of a shock to walk into that dim, overheated apartment and confront someone who looked like all she'd need would be a broomstick to soar over the rooftops.
She was wearing a voluminous white garment which could have been a bedsheet except that it was inset with triangles of white lace. It hung quite low, almost to the floor, but not low enough to hide Otherton's bare feet. They were short and puffy, the toenails painted black.
Boone had mentioned the woman's jewelry and perfume, the wildly decorated room and burning incense. It was all there, but what surprised Detective Estrella was Otherton's patience. After all, this was the third time she had been braced by the cops on the Ellerbee kill, and he expected her to be hostile and indignant.
But she led him into her apartment without demur and answered his questions freely without once reminding him that she had replied to the same queries twice before. He appreciated that, and decided to try an absolutely honest approach to see if that might tempt her into additional disclosures* ' "You see, ma'am," he said, "we're most concerned about your whereabouts the night of the crime. You've told us you were here alone. That may be true, but we'd feel a lot better if we could confirm it. Did you go out at all that night?"
"Oh, no," she said in a low voice.
"I very rarely go out.
That's part of my problem."
"And you say you had no visitors, saw no one, made and received no phone calls?"
She shrugged helplessly.
"No, I'm afraid not."
"I wish you'd think hard and carefully about that night, Miss Otherton, and see if you can remember anything that will help confirm what you've told us."
"I'll try," she said.
"Really I will."
Estrella looked at that face marred with clown's makeup and suddenly realized that with the chalky mask removed, and the long, unkempt hair brushed, she would be reasonably comely-maybe not pretty but pleasant enough.
To his horror, he found himself blurting all that out, and more, telling this strange woman how she might improve her appearance, her dress, not so much to impress others but for the sake of her own self-esteem.
"You mustn't stay locked up in here," he said earnestly.
"You must try to get out into the world."
She stared at him, and her eyes slowly filled, tears began to drip down her fleshy cheeks. He was distressed, thinking he had insulted her. But … "Thank you," she said in a choky voice.
"It's kind of you to be concerned.
To show an interest. Most people laugh at me. Doctor Simon never did.
That's why I loved him so much. I know I am not living a normal life, but with Doctor Simon's help I was trying to come out of it. Now, with him gone, I don't know what I'm going to do."
Then she told Detective Estrella about her childhood rape and her aversion to bearded men-things he already knew.
She said her life was a sad tangle, and she was close to giving up hope of "ever getting my head together."
Estrella told her how important it was to think positively, and then told her of his wife's terminal illness and how courageously she was dealing with that.
"Your mental attitude," he said, "is even more important than the way you look. But I think in your case, those things are connected. And if you start by improving your appearance, your state of mind will improve too, and the way you live." She brought them little glasses of dry sherry, and they began to converse in an animated fashion, discovering they had a common interest in astrology, lecithin, numerology, and UFOS.
He asked if he might smoke a pipe, and she said yes, she had always admired men who smoked pipes.
After a while, Estrella was enjoying their conversation so much-he hadn't had a long talk with a woman in months; his visits to Meg were severely limited-that he felt guilty because he had forgotten the reason he was there.
"I hope, Miss Otherton-2' he started, but she interrupted.
"Sylvia," she said.
"Sylvia," he repeated.
"That's a lovely name. It means 'forest maiden."
Did you know that? My first name is Brian, which means 'strong and powerful,' and you can see how silly that is! But what I was going to say, Sylvia, is that I hope if you can think of anything you feel might help us find Doctor Ellerbee's killer, you'll give me a call. I'll leave you my card. She stared at him a long moment.
"I know how to find out who did it," she said intensely.
He felt a surge of excitement.
"How?" he said hoarsely.
She rose, went into the bedroom, came back carrying a Ouija board and planchette.