Part 30 (1/2)
If this failed because of her, if they lost this now, she would have to find other ways.
”Not if it hurt Robert,” she said. Her voice was clear and unbroken.
”No, Your Honor. Not if it hurt my son.”
Twenty-four.
Criminals: Some Foiled, Some Not
It was 5:45 and Duggan was nursing a headache that aspirin wouldn't budge, wis.h.i.+ng he were already home an hour ago with Alice lying on the sofa in the living room while Alice fussed around him, getting hot towels for his forehead and cups of tea. She wouldn't bother him about being behind on the mortgage. She wouldn't complain about the work hours. Alice was great when you were sick. The mother-mode kicked in and everything was all of a sudden you name it, you got it.
He sure could wish for that.
But this arrest he had in front of him here was a doozy.
The guy's name was Elmo Lincoln-his mama had named him after Tarzan, no less. He'd held up a convenience store out on route 3A. Emptied the cash register, pointed his .22 pistol at the owner and told him to hand over his car keys. At some point the owner-a scared old guy of sixty-five with gla.s.ses thick as hubcaps-had managed to hit the silent alarm. But Elmo didn't know that. He went outside and started up the car.
Then realized he couldn't drive it.
The car was a '63 Chevy. Fully and lovingly restored. Cherry-red and polished to perfection.
With a manual s.h.i.+ft.
And Elmo couldn't drive manual.
Realizing that made him mad at the owner so he went back inside and started yelling at the guy, what the f.u.c.k was he doing with a car that was practically older than he was, and Elmo knew the owner had another car, a real car, sitting somewhere the f.u.c.k around so where was it? He pulled the owner outside to look.
Elmo badgered the old guy and shook his pistol at him for ten whole minutes.
When Duggan arrived Elmo took one look at the squad car and then just dropped the gun into the dirt and shrugged.
”I coulda got away,” he said.
No s.h.i.+t, Duggan thought.
Duggan was doing the paperwork on this idiot and musing through the dull throbbing headache on the amazing clarity of the criminal mind-I coulda got away-when the phone rang.
”I got another one here,” Whoorly said.
”Oh s.h.i.+t. Where?”
”Canaan. Dumped her off the side of the road this time, but the coroner says the MO's right on the money. Raped, a.n.a.lly and v.a.g.i.n.ally, nail holes in the palms of her hands, beaten, burned ...”
”And staked through the heart.”
”You got it.”
”This a.s.shole's got women all f.u.c.ked up with Dracula.”
”What?”
”Nothing. He place the time of death yet?”
”Last night. Somewhere between three and four in the morning. You want the file?”
”I want the file.”
He hung up the phone and wondered where Arthur Danse was last night.
He wondered how his custody hearing was going.
He wondered if it was maybe making him angry at somebody.
He filed away the great Elmo Lincoln auto-theft caper for tomorrow and got up to check it out.
He talked to the bailiff and then drove out to Arthur's place.
Arthur wasn't pleased to see him. He opened the door and rolled his eyes and said, ”What, Ralph? I've had a long day.”
”Not the days I'm interested in, Art. It's the nights.”
”What?”
”Tell me how you spent last night, Art.”
”Went to the restaurant, stayed until about ten and then came home, watched TV, and went to bed. Why?”
”All alone, I guess.”
”I'm afraid so, yes.”
Duggan peered in through the doorway. From what he could see the place was spotless, the furnis.h.i.+ngs practically Spartan.
”How 'bout inviting me in for a quick cup of coffee. I really could use one.”
”Another time, Ralph. Like I said, it's been a h.e.l.l of a day.”
”Sure. How's the hearing going?”