On Monday morning Carl Gildersleeve, sunglasses low on the bridge of his nose, stood over Chief Hallock, his hands gripping the edge of the desk. "Well, what the hell've you got?"
"On what?"
"Don't bullshit me, Waldo, you know damn well what!"
"You mean the murders?"
"What else would I mean?"
"You wanna know what I got? I got nothing. A big fat zero, if you mean a suspect."
"I mean a suspect. And more to the point, an arrest."
Hallock laughed. "No suspect, no arrest."
"You think this is funny?"
"Nope. But I think you're ridiculous."
The mayor's face flushed, turning brick red. "You'd better watch your mouth, Waldo, and I mean it. You can't talk to me like that."
"I'm telling you I got nothing and you're pushing me. So I find that pretty ridiculous."
"I can't believe you haven't got one damn shred of-of anything, not one suspect."
Hallock pushed his cap back on his head, ran a big hand over his chin, and felt a patch of stubble he missed that morning. "Okay. This is what I got. I got a confession."
Gildersleeve stared at Hallock with cold eyes. "What's that bullshit?"
"No bullshit. I got a confession. To both murders. Jim Drew's confession."
"You mean that loony-tunes peckerhead who confesses to everything from being a peepin' tom to armed robbery?"
"The very same."
"What the fuck good is that?"
"So who said it was good? I told you I didn't have diddly-squat."
Gildersleeve was silent for a moment, sat down in an orange chair, and played with his flowered tie. "Wait a minute, wait a minute. Lemme think."
"Be my guest."
"Drew confessed, huh? To both murders?"
"I was waiting for him. Took him five hours before he confessed to Ruth Cooper's murder."
"So arrest him," Gildersleeve ordered.
"I'm dying laughing."
"I'm serious." Gildersleeve moved forward in his chair, his tie end resting on the desk. "Listen. We make an arrest now, get an indictment, and if it doesn't hold up three, four months from now, nobody gives two farts in the wind. You see what I mean?"
"No. I don't see. It wouldn't hold up for two minutes, let alone months. Nobody's gonna indict that bedbug. Like you said, Carl, he confesses to every misdemeanor comes down the pike."
"We need an arrest."
"What's the we stuff, huh?" Hallock leaned forward, stared into Gildersleeve's eyes. "I make the arrest, I take the heat when the DA goes to indict and sees he's got snow in August. But before that the paper nails me like a piece of…"
"What paper? That rag? What do they know?"
"They'll squeeze my balls till they bust if I go arresting Drew. They know he's a loon."
"Listen, Waldo, the guy confessed, right? So give him what he wants, and give the public what they want. Everybody wants to sleep easy."
Hallock walked around the side of the desk and stood over Gildersleeve. "I don't think you understand what we got here. Two murders in two days."
"The first one was over a month ago. Bastard, puttin' her in my pool."
"Okay, so it happened a month ago. The point is, there's been a second one. And maybe there's gonna be a third. So let's say I got Drew locked up nice an' cozy, and the real killer bumps off another woman and writes another A on her chest. Then what, huh? It's my ass in a sling, not yours."
Gildersleeve fanned the idea away with his hand. "Nobody's gonna blame you if a guy confesses."
Leaning over, his face level with Gildersleeve's, Hallock said, "But look who the guy is, Carl. He confesses but he doesn't know dick about the murders. I say to him, 'Where'd you get the silk stocking you tied around Gloria Danowski's neck?' and he says to me, 'I bought it at Van Duzer's department store.'"
"So what's wrong with that?"
"Jesus, Carl, you saw her. It was a piece of sheet around her neck. And when I ask him where the gun was that he used to shoot Ruth Cooper, you wanna guess what he says?"
"He threw it away, doesn't remember where?"
Standing straight again he said, "Now you're getting smart."
"And it wasn't a gun, right?"
"Right. Look I want this thing put away as much as you, but sending Jim Drew up to bat isn't gonna do the trick."
"Okay, okay. Forget Drew. You got anything else?"
"Nothing." Hallock wasn't going to tell him about Phil Nagle. There was no point; the man was innocent.
"It's a maniac, isn't it?"
Hallock shrugged. "I don't think he's your picture of health."
"And I don't think it's anybody from around here."
Hallock walked past the filing cabinets, ran a hand over the edge. "No? What makes you say that?"
"I just don't think we got those kind of people around here. I mean, we got some lulus but not cold-blooded killers."
"It's hard to know about that. A cold-blooded killer could be walking around just like you and me, nobody noticing anything. Besides, Carl, I think you're forgetting something."
"What's that?"
Hallock tried not to smile. "Whoever did it dumped the first one in your pool."
Gildersleeve jumped up. "Just what in hell's that supposed to mean?"
"It means I don't think that was an accident. I don't think that was some stranger killing a woman, then picking out some unknown pool and dropping her in there, that's what it means."
"You think somebody's got it in for me, Waldo?" Gildersleeve was sweating.
"I'd definitely say somebody doesn't like you."
"You ought to give us a guard then, twenty-four hour guard."
"Don't have the manpower."
"But maybe Grace'll be next."
Hallock wondered if what he saw in Carl's eyes was fear or hope.
"We have to protect Grace."
"I personally think what's gonna be done to you has already been done."
"But you don't know that, do you, Waldo? You can't guarantee it because by your own admission you don't know anythin'. Well, I'm gonna tell you somethin' right now. You better make an arrest soon, because what we have here is a resort town which has a season which officially opens this Friday. That's four days from now, Waldo. If we don't have this thing under control in four days nobody's gonna come here, and if nobody comes here then nobody who lives here is gonna make any money, and if nobody makes any money then this town goes down the fuckin' tubes. So you better arrest somebody quick. I don't give a shit who, just do it."
"I can't just arrest any old person, Carl."
"I'm tellin' you, you'd better do somethin'. And you wanna know why? I'll tell you that, too. You've been chief a good long time, had a great run, right? Youngest police chief in the state an' all that crap, but it can disappear just like that." He snapped his fingers. "No benefits, no pension. Know what I mean? So make an arrest, Slats, and make it in the next forty-eight hours." Gildersleeve pushed past Hallock and walked out.
"Fuck you," Hallock said softly.
At lunch Hallock sat across from Fran at the kitchen table. "So that's what he said, make an arrest, doesn't matter who."
"What're you gonna do, hon'?"
"I don't know." He reached out a hand and Fran took it, squeezed hard. She was still a damned good-looking woman, he thought. Clear blue eyes, small nose, Cupid's bow mouth: pretty. "The thing is, Fran, I want to catch this guy myself. I don't want the state troopers in here, know what I mean?"
"Do you think that'll happen?"
"Could. Sure could. If I don't do something fast Carl'll call them in himself. Maybe even have the Village Board on my back. Main thing though, is to keep this quiet as we can. Don't want a panic, big city papers coming out here to do stories and stuff."
"How're you gonna keep a thing like this quiet?"
"I gotta pay a visit to Mark Griffing. Maguire's okay. We're friends and I know I can make him see my position. But Griffing-I don't know about him. See, the thing is, much as I think Gildersleeve's an asshole, he's got a point. This thing gets out, the town's in real trouble. If the tourists don't come nobody makes money, and who do you think they're gonna blame? Gildersleeve? Griffing? The killer? No. It's me they're gonna blame." Hallock picked up the second half of his egg-salad sandwich and took a bite, mayonnaise streaking his lips.
Fran handed him a napkin. "You got a plan?"
"Nope, no plan. Only thing I know now is I got to spend more time on the job."
These were not the words Fran longed to hear. As it was, she hardly ever saw him. Even Sundays were messed up when something big was going on. Still, this was no time to nag him about staying home with her and the kids more. Anyway, she knew he would if he could. Waldo Hallock loved his family. "You've got to do what you think's best."
"Don't wanna lose my job," he said solemnly.
She tented her hands beneath her chin. "Carl can't do much without the Board, Waldo. And I can't believe anybody'd criticize you for not nailing this thing down right off. People know you've been a good police chief, and honest as the day is long."
"My honesty isn't at stake here, Fran."
"Well, you know what I mean. People love you in this town."
"People might love me, but if they're afraid for their lives they're gonna view me differently."
"How can Carl, or anyone else, expect you to solve a murder in a minute when you don't have experience with that kind of thing?" she said angrily.
"Ah, Fran, you just don't get it." He wiped his mouth and crushed the napkin into a ball, dropped it on the table.
"Sorry about that," she said sharply.
Hallock saw that her eyes were the color of cobalt: she was hurt. He walked around the table and knelt in front of her. "Listen, Fran, I don't mean to be impatient, but I don't think you're understanding the situation here. Nobody gives a rat's ass whether I got experience or not. All anybody wants is for their chief of police to keep them safe. And they got a right to expect that."
"I know. You're right. I just get like a mother bear with her cub when you get attacked."
"Some cub."
She laughed. He stood, pulled her up with him.
"I wish I could help," she said.
He wanted to tell her the best way she could help now was to not do anything conspicuous, anything that might reflect on him.
"You're thinking about Shoreham, aren't you?"
"Kind of. How'd you know?"
She shook her head. "Waldo, after all these years how can you ask me that? Don't you think I know you?"
"I guess."
"You guess! You know it. Well, what about Shoreham?"
"I wasn't really thinking about that. Just…"
"Just that you hope I'll behave myself and not go marching or writing letters or anything else right now."
He nodded.
"Well, don't worry, hon'. The only thing I've got scheduled for the next two weeks is collecting clothes for the poor and a very quiet NOW meeting."
"Good. I have to be getting back." He put a big hand on either shoulder. "I'll probably be late tonight. You and the kids better eat without me."
She walked him to the door. "I'm just making meatloaf. You can have a sandwich when you get home."
He loved meatloaf sandwiches with plenty of ketchup. "Sounds good." Hallock kissed her forehead, then her lips. It started out friendly, then developed into something more.
"Wish you didn't have to go back," she said, smiling.
"Me, too."
"It's been a long time since we had a matinee."
He laughed. "A matinee? Where'd you get that?"
"I don't know. Read it, I guess."
"A matinee," he said again, shaking his head. "How about a late show?"
"Okay with me."
He kissed her again, then hurried down the front steps.
She called, "Was that a real invitation?"
"'Course it was."
"Okay, then."
He opened the door to the cruiser. "Okay, what?"
She looked up and down the street, thinking of the neighbors, then stepped back into the doorway, gave a little bump and grind, and shut the door.
Hallock sat in the car laughing. He was pleased Fran wasn't going to be doing anything public or all-consuming for awhile. He needed her. And when she got deeply involved in one of her causes, she vanished emotionally. And that was especially hard on him because it reminded him of his mother. Marion Hallock had always been distant, like a governess, not a mother.
Well, hell, he didn't want to start thinking about his mother now. He started the car and backed out of the driveway. He couldn't think about his mother or Fran. He had to get his mind on this case. First thing he had to do was see Mark Griffing and make him understand that he had to downplay the murders. Fat chance.