"It's so quiet, you could hear a pin drop," Parker said. "I coulda been home sleeping."
"Instead of sleeping here," Brown said, and went to the water cooler. He was a hefty, muscular black man, standing some six-feet four-inches tall and weighing two hundred and twenty pounds. There was a glowering look on his face as he pulled a paper cup from the holder and then stabbed at the faucet button. He always looked glowering, even when he was smiling. Brown could get an armed robber to drop his piece just by glowering at him.
"Who's sleeping?" Parker said. "I'm resting, is all. I already finished my work."
"Then why don't you start writing your book?" Hawes said.
"You could write all about how Halloween ain't what it used to be," Brown said, crumpling the paper cup and going back to his desk.
"It ain't," Parker agreed.
"You could write about it's so quiet on Halloween, your hero has nothing to do," Hawes said.
"That's the truth," Parker said. "This phone ain't rung once since I come in."
He looked at the phone.
It did not ring.
"I'll bet that bothers you a lot," Brown said. "The phone not ringing."
"Nothing to do," Hawes said.
"No ax murders out there," Brown said.
"I had an ax murder once," Parker said, "I could maybe write about that."
"It's been done," Hawes said.
"Be a big fuckin' best-seller."
"I don't think it was."
" 'Cause maybe a cop didn't write it. You got to be a cop to write best-sellers about cops."
"You got to be an ax murderer to write best-sellers about ax murders," Brown said.
"Sure," Parker said, and looked at the phone again.
"You got nothing to do," Hawes said, "whyn't you go down the hall and shave?"
"I'm working on my Miami Vice look," Parker said.
"You look like a bum," Brown said.
"Iam a bum," Parker said.
"You got to be a bum to write best-sellers about bums," Brown said.
"Tell that to Kennedy," Hawes said.
"Teddy? I didn't know he wrote books," Parker said. "What does he write about? Senators?"
"Go shave," Hawes said.
"Or go write a book about a barber," Brown suggested.
"I ain't a barber," Parker said.
He looked at the phone again.
"You ever see it this quiet?" he asked.
"I never evenheard it this quiet," Brown said.
"Me, neither," Parker said. "It's like a paid vacation."
"Like always," Brown said.
"I once had a lady choked to death on a dildo," Parker said. "Maybe I could write about that. I had a lot of cases I could write about."
"Maybe you could write about the case you're working now," Brown said.
"I ain't working nothing right now."
"No kidding?"
"I finished all my work. Everything wrapped up till the phone rings."
"Maybe the phone's out of order," Hawes said.
"You think so?" Parker said, but he made no move to lift the receiver and listen for a dial tone.
"Or maybe none of the bad guys are doing anything out there," Brown said.
"Maybe all the bad guys went south for the winter," Hawes said, and thought again about Bermuda, and wondered if he should come clean with Annie.
"Fat chance," Parker said. "This weather? I never seen an October like this in my entire life. I once had a case, this guy strangled his wife with the telephone cord. I'll bet I could write about that."
"I'll bet you could."
"Hit her with the phone first, knocked her cold. Then strangled her with the cord."
"You could call itLong Distance ," Brown said.
"No, he was standing close to her when he done it."
"Then how aboutLocal Call ?"
"What's wrong withSorry, Wrong Number ?" Parker asked.
"Nothing," Hawes said. "That's a terrific title."
"Or I could write about this guy got drowned in the bathtub. His wife drowned him in the bathtub. That was a good case."
"You could call itGlub ," Brown said.