Promptly at nine o'clock on Wednesday evening, Michael and Rosa Suarez arrived at the brownstone, both wearing what Delaney later described as Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes. Introductions were made and the two couples settled down in the big living room, close to the fireplace, where a modest blaze warmed and mesmerized.
They talked of the current cold snap, of the problems of raising children, of the high cost of ground beef. Mrs. Suarez spoke little, at first, but Delaney had prepared hot rum toddies (with lemon and nutmeg), and after two small cups of that, Rosa's shyness thawed and she began to sparkle.
Monica brought out a plate of her special Christmas treats: pitted dates stuffed with almond paste, covered with a flaky pastry crust and then rolled in shredded coconut before baking. Rosa tried one, rolled her eyes ecstatically.
"Please," she begged, "the recipe!"
Monica laughed and held out her hand.
"Come into the kitchen with me, Rosa. We'll trade secrets and let these two grouches talk business."
Delaney took Suarez into the study and provided cigars.
"First of all," the Chief said, "I must tell you that I have been forced to cut the number of men assigned to the Ellerbee homicide. We were getting no results, nada, and the murder was a month ago. More than a month. Since then there have been many, many things that demand attention. What I wish to say is that you and the people assigned to you are now our only hope. You understand why it was necessary to pull men off this case?"
"Sure," Delaney said genially.
"What are you averaging four or five homicides a day? I know you have a full plate and can't give any one case the coverage it needs. Believe me, Chief, it's always been that way. The problem comes with the territory."
"On the phone you spoke of some developments. But nothing important?"
"No," Delaney said, "not yet."
He then told Suarez how Isaac Kane and Sylvia Mae Otherton had been eliminated as suspects.
"That leaves us with four possibly violent patients, one of whom has confessed. I don't think that confession is worth a tinker's dam-but still, it's got to be checked out. The alibis of the other three are being investigated. At the moment, I'd say that Joan Yesell is the most interesting. It seems likely her mother lied when she told us Joan was home at the time of the killing. I've got two people working on that."
"So you are making progress."
"I don't know if you can call it progress," Delaney said cautiously.
"But we are eliminating the possibles and getting down to the probables.
Yes, I guess that's progress."
Suarez was silent, puffing on a cigar. Then he said, "But what if-"
Delaney held up a palm to stop him.
"What if! Chief, the what-ifs can kill you if you let them. I think we've cleared Kane and Otherton. I believe it on the basis of good detective work and a little bit of luck. But what if Kane offed Ellerbee and then cabbed back to the Beeles' apartment on West Eighty-third Street? They might remember him being there on the murder night, but couldn't swear to the time he arrived.
And what if Otherton called the lobby clerk from outside on the night of the murder? What if she clubbed Ellerbee and then used his office phone to call the clerk just to set up an alibi? All I'm saying is that you can drown yourself in whatifs. A detective has got to be imaginative, but if you let yourself get too imaginative, you're lost."
Michael Ramon Suarez gave him a warm smile.
"That is very true-and a lesson I am still learning. It is a danger to assume that all criminals are possessed of super intelligence.
Most of them are quite stupid."
"Exactly," Delaney agreed.
"But some of them are also quite shrewd. After all, it's their ass that's on the line. What I believe is that all detectives have to walk a very thin line between the cold, hard facts and the what-ifs. Sometimes you have to go on a wing and a prayer."
"But in spite of all this, Edward, you are still confident the Ellerbee case can be cleared?"
"If I didn't believe that, I'd have told you and Thorsen and cleared out. I have a sense the pace is quickening. We've already eliminated two possible suspects. I think we're going to eliminate more."
Suarez sighed.
"And what if you eliminate all six suspects?
Where do you go from there?"
Delaney smiled grimly.
"There you go with a what-if again. If all six are cleared, I can't tell you what I'll do next.
Someone killed Ellerbee; we know that. If all six patients are eliminated, then we'll look around for other directions to take."
The other man looked at him curiously.
"You do not give up easily, do you?"
"No, I do not. From all accounts, Doctor Ellerbee was a decent man living a good, worthwhile life. I don't like the idea of someone chilling him and walking away scot-free."
"Time," the Chief said, groaning.
"How much time can we give this thing?"
"As long as it takes," Delaney said stonily.
"I worked a murder-rape for almost two years and finally got the perp. I know your career depends on this being cleared up as soon as possible.
But I've got to tell you now that if it isn't, and the detectives you've given me are withdrawn, I'll keep working it myself."
"Forever?"
"No, not forever. I may be an obstinate son of a bitch, but I'm not a romantic. At least I don't think I am. The time may come when I'll have to admit defeat. I've done that before; it won't kill me. Shall we see what the ladies are up to?"
The ladies were back in the living room, sitting close together on the couch and obviously enjoying each other's company.
"We must do this again," Monica said.
"Our children will be home for Christmas, but perhaps after the holiday…"
"Then you must visit our home," Chief Suarez said.
"For dinner. Rosa makes a paella that is a hint of what heaven must be like."
"I have a feeling," Delaney said, "that this friendship is going to prove fattening. Tell me, how did you two meet?"
"Rosa's parents owned a bodega in East Harlem," Suarez said.
"It was ripped off, and I was a detective third at the time and sent to investigate. The first thing I said to her was, "I shall marry you." Is that not so, Rosa?" She nodded happily.
"And you?" she asked Monica.
"My first husband was murdered. Edward had charge of the case, and that's how we met."
Rosa was shocked.
"And did-she faltered-'was the killer caught?"
"Oh, yes," Monica said.
"Edward never gives up. He is a very stubborn man."
"That is what I believe also," Suarez said.
"It is very encouraging."
"Chief," Delaney said, "if the Ellerbee killing isn't cleared, and you don't get permanent appointment, I suppose you'll be returned to precinct duty. Can you take that?"
Suarez shrugged, spreading his hands helplessly.
"It would be a disappointment. I would not be honest if I said I did not care – I could endure it, but still it would be a defeat. I think I would be more sorry for Thorsen than for myself. He has worked very hard to bring minorities into appointive ranks.
My failure would be his failure as well."
"Don't worry too much about Ivar," Delaney advised.
"He'll land on his feet. He's learned how to survive in the political jungle. Something I never did. But you're a young man with your career ahead of you. Do you have any contacts with the Hispanic political structure in the city?"
"I know some of the people, of course," Suarez said cautiously.
"But I am not close to them, no."
"Get close to them," Delaney urged.
"They have a lot of clout now, and are going to have more as voting patterns change. Let them know you're around.
Invite them to your home for dinner. All politicians like the personal touch. That's their business. If Rosa's paella is as good as you say, you may have a secret weapon there."
Her hands flew to her face to hide her blush, and she giggled.
"I'm serious about this," Delaney continued.