Part 24 (1/2)

”And don't look innocent,” Fernack said. ”It doesn't succeed in looking anything but horrible. You remind me of a convicted murderer trying to steal thirty cents from the prison chaplain.”

”What would I have to do with all these crimes?” Malone said. ”And what kind of crimes were they, anyway?”

”What you'd have to do with them,” Fernack said, ”is an unanswered question. And so long as it remains unanswered, Malone, you're safe.

But when I come up with enough facts to answer it--”

”Don't be silly. Commissioner,” Malone said. ”How about those crimes?

What kind were they?”

”Burglaries,” Fernack said. ”And I have a hunch you know that well enough. Most of them were just burglaries--locked barrooms, for instance, early in the morning. There's never any sign of tampering with the locks, no sign of breaking and entering, no sign of any alarms being tampered with in any way. But the money's gone from the cash register, and all of the liquor is gone too.”

Malone stared. ”_All_ the liquor?” he said in a dazed voice.

”Well,” Fernack said, ”all of it that's in plain sight, anyway. Except for the open bottles. Disappeared. Gone. Without a trace. And most of the time the extra stock's gone too, from the bas.e.m.e.nt or wherever they happen to keep it.”

”That's a lot of liquor,” Malone said.

”A h.e.l.l of a lot,” Fernack said. ”Some of the bars have gone broke, not being insured against the losses.”

The thought of thousands of bottles of liquor--millions of bottles--went through Malone's mind like an ice pick. He could almost see them, handle them, taste them. ”Hair of the dog,” he muttered.

”What hair. What a dog.”

”What did you say, Malone?”

”Nothing,” Malone said hastily. ”Nothing at all.” After a second another query occurred to him. ”You mean to tell me that only bars were robbed? Nothing else?”

”Oh, no,” Fernack said. ”Bars are only part of it. Malone, why are you asking me to tell you this?”

”Because I want to know,” Malone said patiently.

”I still think--” Fernack began, and then said, ”Never mind.. But it hasn't been only bars. Supermarkets. Homes. Cleaning and tailoring shops. Jewelers. h.e.l.l, Malone, you name it and it's been hit.”

Malone tried valiantly to resist temptation, but he was not at his best, and he lost. ”All right,” he said. ”I will name it. Here's a list of places that haven't even been touched by the rising crime wave. Banks, for one.”

”Malone!”

”Safes that have been locked, for another,” Malone went on. ”Homes with wall safes, though that's not quite accurate. The homes may have been robbed, but the safes won't have been touched.”

”Malone, how much do you know?” Fernack said. ”My G.o.d, man--”

”I'll make a general rule for you,” Malone said. ”Any place that fits the following description is safe: it's got a secure lock on it, and it's too small for a human being to get into.”

Fernack opened his mouth, shut it, and stared downward, obviously scanning some papers lying on the desk in front of him. Malone waited patiently for the explosion, but it never came.

Instead, Fernack said, ”You know, Malone, you remind me of an old friend of mine.”

”Really?” Malone said pleasantly.

”You certainly do,” Fernack said. ”There's just one small difference.