"Ivar, you look like you've been through a meat grinder," Delaney said from behind his cluttered desk.
"Something like that," Thorsen said wearily.
"A tough day.
But they're all tough. If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen. Isn't that what they say?"
"That's what they say," Delaney agreed.
"Only you happen to like the kitchen."
"I suppose so," the Deputy said, sighing.
"Otherwise why would I be doing it? When I leave here, I've got to get over to the Waldorf-a testimonial party for a retiring Assistant DA.
Then back downtown for a meeting with the Commish and a couple of guys from the Mayor's office. We're getting a budget bump, thank God, and the problem is how to spend it."
"That's easy. More street cops."
"Sure, but who gets the jobs-and where? Every borough is screaming for more."
"You'll work it out."
"I suppose so-eventually. But to get back to my original question-any good news?"
"Well…" Delaney said, "there have been developments.
Whether they're good or not, I don't know. So far we've eliminated four of the patients: Kane, Otherton, Gerber, and Symington. Some good detective work there and some luck.
Anyway their alibis have been proved out-to my satisfaction at least."
"But you've still got two suspects?"
"Two possible suspects. One is Ronald Bellsey, a nasty brute of a man.
Detective Calazo is working on him. In his last report, Calazo says he hoped to have definite word on Bellsey within a few days. Calazo is an old cop, very thorough, very experienced. I trust him.
"The other possible suspect, more interesting, is Joan Yesell, suicidal and suffering from depression. Her mother claims she was home at the time of the murder. Detectives Venable and Estrella have definitely proved the mother is lying. She was somewhere else and can't possibly alibi her daughter."
"You're going to pick them up?"
"Mother and daughter? No, not yet. I've switched everyone except Calazo to round-the-clock surveillance of the daughter. Meanwhile we're digging into her background and trying to trace her movements on the day of the murder."
"Why do you think the mother lied?"
"Obviously to protect the daughter. So she must have some guilty knowledge. But it doesn't necessarily have anything to do with Ellerbee's death. Joan Yesell could have been shacked up with a boyfriend, and the mother is lying to protect her reputation-or the boyfriend's."
Thorsen took a gulp of his drink and regarded the other man closely.
"Yes, that's possible. But you have that look about you, Edward-the endof-the-trail look, a kind of suppressed excitement. You really think this Joan Yesell is involved, don't YOU?"
"I don't want to get your hopes up too high, but yes, there's something that's not kosher there. I've spent all afternoon digging through the files, pulling out every mention of the woman. Some of the stuff that seems innocent on first reading takes on a new meaning when you think of her as a killer. For instance, right after Boone and I questioned her for the first time, she attempted suicide. That could be interpreted as guilt."
"What would be her motive?"
"Ivar, we're dealing with emotionally disturbed people here, and ordinary motives don't necessarily hold. Maybe the doctor uncovered something in Yesell's past so painful that she couldn't face it and couldn't endure the thought of Ellerbee knowing it. So she offed him."
"That's possible, I suppose. Sooner or later you're going to have to confront her, aren't you?"
"No doubt about that," Delaney said grimly.
"And the mother, too. But I want to do my homework first-learn all I can about Joan and her movements on the murder night.
Maybe she really was with a boyfriend. If so, we'll find out."
"Meanwhile," Deputy Thorsen said, "the clock is running out. Ten days to the end of the year, Edward. That's when the PC selects his Chief of Detectives."
Delaney took a packet of cigars from his desk drawer, held it out to the Admiral. But the Deputy shook his head. Delaney lighted up, using a gold Dunhill cutter his first wife had given him as a birthday present twenty years ago.
"At least," he said, puffing, "this investigation has taken the heat off the Department. Right? You're not getting pressure from the victim's widow and father anymore, are you?
And I haven't seen anything on the case in the papers for two weeks."
"I'd like to see something in the papers," Thorsen said.
"A headline like: COPS SOLVE ELLERBEE murder. That would be a big help to Suarez."
"How's he doing? I haven't spoken to him for a while.
Maybe I'll give him a call tonight."
"He's a better administrator than he is a detective. But I suppose you saw that, Edward."
"Well, we've still got ten days. For what it's worth, I believe we'll clear it before the end of the year, or the thing will just drag on and on with decreasing hopes for a solution."
"Don't say that," the Deputy said, groaning.
"Don't even suggest it. Well, thank you for your hospitality; I've got to start running again."
"Before you go, Ivar, tell me something-how are your relations with the DAS office?"
"The Department's relations or mine, personally?"
"Yours, personally."
"Pretty good. They owe me some favors. Why do you ask?"
"I have a feeling that if we can pin the killing on Ronald Bellsey or Joan Yesell, there's not going to be much hard evidence. All circumstantial. Would the DA take the case, knowing the chances of a conviction would be iffy?"Now you're opening a whole new can of worms,"
Thorsen said cautiously.
"Ordinarily I'd say no. But this homicide attracted so much attention that they might be willing to take a chance just for the publicity.
They're as eager for good media coverage as we are."
Delaney nodded.
"Well, you might sound them out. Just to get their reaction."
Thorsen stared at the other man fixedly.
"Edward, you think this Joan Yesell could be it?"
"At the moment," Delaney said, "she and Ronald Bellsey are all we've got. Light a candle, Ivar."
"One candle? I'll set fire to the whole church."
After the Deputy departed, Delaney returned to his study and called Suarez.
But the Chief wasn't home. Delaney chatted a few minutes with Rosa, wishing her a Merry Christmas, and asked her to tell her husband that he had called-nothing important.
Then he went back to the stack of reports on Ronald Bellsey. According to Calazo, the subject was a prime suspect in four brutal beatings in the vicinity of Bellsey's hangouts.
Add to that Delaney's personal reactions to the man, and you had a picture of a thug who got his jollies by pounding on weaker men, including Detective Hogan. There was little doubt that Bellsey was a sadistic psychopath. The question remained: Was he a homicidal psychopath?
Uncertainties gnawed. Would a loco who derived pleasure from punishing another human being with his fists and boots resort to hammer blows to kill? If Ellerbee had been beaten and kicked to death, Delaney would have been surer that Bellsey was the killer.
He groaned aloud, realizing what he was doing: applying logic to a guy who acted irrationally. You couldn't do that; you had to adopt the subject's own illogic. Once Delaney did that, he could admit that Bellsey might use a ball peen hammer, an icepick, or kill with a bulldozer if the madness was on him.
Joan Yesell might be suicidal and depressed, but she didn't seem to share Bellsey's mania for wild violence. But who knew what passions were cloaked by that timid, subdued persona she presented to the world?
Outside: Mary Poppins; inside: Lizzie Borden.
Between the two of them, Delaney leaned toward Yesell as the more likely suspect, but only because her alibi had been broken.