by Ed McBain
'And they'd run all over the city saying I couldn't cut it.'
'Is that important to you?'
'I'm a good cop,' Eileen said.
'Was.'
'Well, you haven't quit yet. So you're still a cop.'
'But not a good one.'
'Has anyone said that to you?'
'Not to my face.'
'Do you think anyone has said that behind your back?'
'Who cares?'
'Well, you do, don't you?'
'Not if they think I'm scared.'
'But you are scared. You told me you were scared.'
'I know I am.'
'So what's wrong with that?'
'I'm a cop.'
'Do you think cops aren't scared?'
'Not the way I'm scared.'
'How scared are you, Eileen? Can you tell me?'
She was silent for a long time.
Then she said, 'I have nightmares. Every night.'
'About the rape?'
'Yes. About giving him my gun. He has the knife to my throat, and I give him my gun. Both guns. The thirty-eight and the little backup pistol. The Browning. I give him both guns.'
'Is that what happened in reality?'
'Yes. But he raped me, anyway. I thought . . .'
'Yes?'
'I don't know what I thought. I guess that . . . that if I ... I cooperated, then he ... he wouldn't cut me . . . wouldn't rape me. But he did.'
'Cut you. And raped you.'
'So fucking helpless? Eileen said. 'A cop!'
'What did he look like, do you remember?'
'It was dark.'
'But you saw him, didn't you?'
'And raining. It was raining.'
'But what did he look like?'
'I don't remember. He grabbed me from behind.'
'But surely, when he . . .'
'I don't remember.'
'Did you see him after that night?'
'Yes.'
'When?'
'At the trial'
'What was his name?'
'Arthur Haines. Annie made the collar.'
'Did you identify him at the trial?'
'Yes. But . . .'
'Well, what did he look like?'
'In the dream, he has no face.'
'But while he was raping you, he had a face.'
'Yes.'
'And at the trial, he had a face.'
'Yes.'
'Which you identified.'
'Yes.'
'What did he look like, Eileen?'
'Tall. Six feet. A hundred and eighty pounds. Brown hair and blue eyes.'
'How old?'
'Thirty-four.'
'How old was the man you killed?'
'What?'
'How old was . . . ?'
'What's he got to do with this? I don't have nightmares about him.'
'Do you remember how old he was?'
'Yes.'
'Tell me.'
'Early thirties.'
'What'd he look like?'
'I already told you this. The second time I was here. We've been through all this.'
'Tell me again.'
'Blond,' Eileen said, and sighed. 'Six-two. Two hundred pounds. Eye-glasses. A heart-shaped tattoo with nothing in it'
'What color were his eyes?'
'Blue.'
'Like the rapist.'
'The eyes, yes.'
'His size, too.'
'Well, Bobby was heavier and taller.'
'But they were both big men.'
'Yes.'
'You said you were alone with him in a room . . .'
'Bobby, yes.'
'Because you'd lost your backups. By the way, do you always think of him as Bobby?'
'Well ... I guess so. That's what he called himself. Bobby.'
'Uh huh.'
'Is there anything wrong with that? Calling him Bobby?'
'No, no. Tell me how you lost your backups.'
'I thought I already did.'
'No, I don't think so. How many were there?'
'Two of them. Annie and a ... Annie Rawles . . .'
'Yes.'
'. . . and a guy from the Seven-Two in Calm's Point. Mike Shanahan. Big Irishman. Good cop.'
'How'd you lose them?'
'Well, Bert got it in his head that I needed help. So he drove out to the Zone . . .'
'Bert Kling.'
'Yeah. Who I was still seeing at the time. I told him I didn't want him coming out there, but he came anyway. And . . . he's blond, you know. Did I mention he's blond? And there was a mix-up on the street, Shanahan saw Bert and thought he was the guy we were looking for, because Bobby was blond, too, you know, and about the same size. So by the time they straightened it out - it was the Feather in the Hat thing, you know, only nobody was wearing feathers - by the time Shanahan realized Bert was on the job, Bobby and I were gone.'
'Gone?'
'Around the corner. On our way to the room.'
'Did they ever catch up to you?'
'No.'
'Then you really did lose them. I mean, permanently.'
'Yes.'
'Because Bert stepped into the play.'
'Well, it wasn't his fault.'
'Whose fault was it?'
'Shanahan's.'
'Why?'
'Because he mistook Bert for the suspect.'
'Didn't know Bert was a cop.'
'That's right.'
'But if Bert hadn't been there . . .'
'But he was.'
'But if he hadn't beenthere . . .'
'There's no sense thinking that way. He was there.'
'Eileen, if he hadn't been there, would there have been a mix-up on the street?'
'Well, no.'
'Would you have lost your backups?'
'Probably not.'
'Do you think they might have helped you in your situation with Bobby?'
'Who?'
'Your backups.'
'I suppose so. If they'd got to me in time.'
'Well, you said they're both good cops . . .'
'Oh, sure.'
'. . . who undoubtedly knew their jobs . . .'
'I'd have trusted my life with either of them. In fact, that's exactly what I was doing. Trusting them to get there on time if I needed them.'
'But they weren't there when you needed them.'
'Yes, but that wasn't their fault.'
'Whose fault was it?'
'Nobody's. It was one of those dumb things that happen all the time.'
'Eileen, if it hadn't happened - if there hadn't been the mix-up, if you hadn't lost Shanahan and Annie - do you think you'd have had to shoot Bobby?'
'I don't know.'
'Well, think about it.'
'How can I possibly . . . ?'
'Well, if they'd been following you . . .'
'Yes, but they weren't.'
'If they'd been there behind you . . .'
'But you see . . .'
'. . . if they'd seen where Bobby was taking you . . .'
'Look, there's no use crying over . . .'
'. . . and if they'd got to you in time, would you have shot and killed Bobby Wilson?'
'I'd shoot him all over again,' Eileen said.
'You didn't answer my question.'
'Man with a knife? Coming at me with a knife? Of course I'd shoot the son of a bitch! I got cut once, thanks, and I don't plan to . . .'
Eileen stopped dead.
'Yes?' Karin said.
Eileen was silent for several moments.
Then she said, 'I wasn't trying to get even, if that's what you think.'
'What do you mean?'
'When I shot Bobby. I wasn't ... I didn't shoot him because of... I mean, it had nothing to do with the rape.'
'Okay.'
'Nothing at all. In fact . . . well, I already told you.'
'What was that?'
'I was beginning to like him. He was very charming.'
'Bobby.'
'Yes.'
'But you killed him.'
'I had to. That's the whole point, you know, the whole reason I'm here.'
'Yes, tell me the reason.'
'I already told you this, I don't know why I have to tell you every fucking thing a hundred times.'
'What was it you told me?'
'That I want to quit because I'm afraid I'll . . .'
'Yes, I remember now. You're afraid . . .'
'I'm afraid I'll get so angry I'll kill somebody else.'
'Angry?'
'Well, Jesus, if somebody's coming at you with a knife . . .'
'But I thought you were beginning to like him. Bobby.'
'The man had already killed three other women! He was ready to kill me! If you think that doesn't start the adrenaline flow . . .'
'I'm sure it does. But you say it made you angry.'
'Yes.' She hesitated a moment, and then said, 'I emptied the gun in him.'
'Uh-huh.'
'Six shots.'
'Uh-huh.'
'A big gun. A Smith & Wesson forty-four.'
'Uh-huh.'
'I'd do it again. In a minute.'
'And that's what you're afraid of. That's why you want to quit the force. Because someday you might get angry all over again, and . . .'
'He had a knife!'
'Is that what made you angry? The knife?'
'I was all alone up there! I'd lost my . . . you know, I told Bert to stay out of it. I told him I could take care of it just fine, I had two backups who knew what they were doing, I didn't need any more help. But he came out there, anyway.'
'And caused you to lose your backups.'
'Well, that's what he did, didn't he? I mean, I didn't lose them! And Shanahan was only doing his job. It was Bert sticking his nose in that caused all the trouble. Because he thought I wasn't any good anymore. Thought I'd lost it, you see. Couldn't take care of myself. Couldn't do the job. When I found out later what'd happened out there on the street, I could've killed him!'
'So you were angry with him, too,' Karin said.
'Well, later, yes.'
'Yes. When you realized that if he hadn't interfered . . .'
'I wouldn't have been alone up there with Bobby. Yes.'
The room went silent.
Karin looked at her watch.
Their time was up.
'But you told me you'd kill Bobby again,' she said. 'In a minute.'
'I'd never killed anyone before, you know,' Eileen said. 'I used to ... you know, my father and my uncle Matt both got killed on the job . . .'
'I didn't know that.'
'Well, yeah. And ... I used to think I'd . . . if I ever caught that guy with the red handkerchief over his face, I'd ... blow him away without kitting an eyelash. For what he did to ... but . . . you know . . . when I . . the third shot knocked him onto the bed, Bobby, he was lying flat on the bed, I'm sure he was already dead. But I ... I fired the rest of the . . . three more bullets into . . . into his back . . . along the spine. And then I threw the gun across the room and began screaming.'
Karin looked at her.
You're still screaming, she thought.
'Our time is up,' she said.
Eileen nodded.
Karin rose from behind her desk. 'We have a lot of work to do,' she said.
Eileen was still sitting. Looking at her hands. Head bent, hands in her lap. Without looking up, she said, 'I hate him, don't I?'
'Which one?' Karin asked, and smiled.
'Bert'
'We'll talk about it, okay?' Karin said. 'Will I see you on Thursday?'
Eileen stood up.
She looked directly into Karin's eyes.
She did not say anything for several seconds.
Then she said, 'Yes.'
It was a beginning.
FB2 document info
Document ID: e7723c4d-e10e-428a-9c00-6de823b41c2a
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 10.10.2013
Created using: calibre 0.9.22, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6 software
Document authors :
Ed McBain
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