Tricks

by Ed McBain

  "How doyou get along with him?" Brown asked.

  "Jimmy? I think of him as a brother."

  "No friction, huh? I mean, the three of you living in the same house?"

  "None whatever."

  "So what does that mean?" Kling asked. "You won't go with me?"

  "I don't thinkyou should go, either," Hawes said.

  "Well, I'm going."

  "She knows her job," Hawes said flatly. "And so does Annie."

  "Shedidn't know her job when that son of a bitch hellip;"

  Kling caught himself. He took a deep breath.

  "Take it easy," Hawes said.

  "I'm going out there tonight," Kling said. "With you or without you."

  "Take it easy," Hawes said again.

  Brown walked over.

  "Here's the way I figure it," he said to Hawes. "You caught the Missing P, I caught the pieces. Turns out it's the same case. I figure maybe Genero ought to go back to cruising, find all that trouble in the streets the loot's worried about. You and me can team up on this one, how does that sound to you?"

  "Sounds good," Hawes said.

  "I'll go tell Genero," Brown said, and walked off.

  "You okay?" Hawes asked Kling.

  "I'm fine," Kling said.

  But he walked off, too.

  The precinct map was spread out on the long table in the Interrogation Room. Meyer and Carella were hunched over the map. They had already asked Sergeant Murchison to run a check on any circuses or carnivals that happened to be in town. They did not think there'd be any at this time of year. In the meantime, they were trying to figure out where the midgets would hit next.

  "Midgets," Meyer said, shaking his head. "You ever bust a midget?"

  "Never," Carella said. "I busted a dwarf once. He was a very good burglar. Used to crawl into vents."

  "What's the difference?" Meyer asked.

  "A midget is a person of unusually small size, but he's physically well-proportioned."

  "So? Dopey and Doc were well-proportioned, too."

  "That's the movies," Carella said. "In real life, a dwarf has abnormal body proportions."

  "Can you name all the Seven Dwarfs?" Meyer asked.

  "I can't even name Snow White," Carella said.

  "Go on, give it a try."

  "Anyone can name the Seven Dwarfs," Carella said.

  "Go ahead, name them."

  "Dopey, Doc hellip;"

  "I gave you those two free."

  "Grumpy, Sleepy, Sneezy hellip; how many is that?"

  "Five."

  "Bashful."

  "Yeah?"

  "And hellip;"

  "Yeah?"

  "Who's the seventh one?" Carella said.

  "Nobody can name all seven of them," Meyer said.

  "So tell me who he is."

  "Think about it," Meyer said, smiling.

  Carella hunched over the precinct map. Now the goddamn seventh dwarf would bother him all night long.

  "First hit was here," he said, indicating the location on the map. "Culver and Ninth. Second one here. Still on Culver, three blocks east. Next one was Culver and Twentieth."

  "They're working their way uptown on Culver."

  "First one at hellip; have you got that timetable?"

  Meyer opened his notebook. "Five-fifteen," he said. "Second one at a little after seven. Third one about forty minutes ago."

  "So what's the interval?"

  "Five-fifteen, seven-oh-five, nine-twenty. Figure two hours, more or less."

  "Time to change their costumes hellip;"

  "Or maybe we're dealing withthree gangs here, did that occur to you?"

  "There aren't that many midgets in the world," Carella said.

  "You figured out the seventh dwarf yet?"

  "No." He looked at the map again. "So the next one should be further uptown on Culver, and they should hit around eleven, eleven-thirty."

  "Ifthere's a next one."

  "And unless they speed up the timetable."

  "Yeah," Meyer said, and shook his head again. "Midgets. I always thought midgets were law-abiding citizens."

  "Just be happy they aren't giants," Carella said.

  "You got it," Meyer said.

  "Huh?" Carella said.

  "Happy. That's the seventh dwarf."

  "Oh. Yeah."

  "So what do you want to do?"

  "First let's check Dave, see if he came up with any circuses or carnivals."

  "That's a long shot," Meyer said.

  "Then let's call Ballistics again, see if they got anything on the bullets."

  "We'll maybe get a caliber and make," Meyer said, "but I don't see how that's gonna help us."

  "And then I guess we better head uptown," Carella said, "case Culver, see which stores are possibles for the next hit."

  "You figuring on a plant?"

  "Unless there's a dozen of them."

  "Well, it's getting late, there won't be many open."

  Carella folded the map.

  "So," he said. "Murchison first."

  She was still sitting on the bench, weeping softly, when Hawes approached her.

  "Mrs. Sebastiani?" he said.

  Marie looked up. Face tear-streaked, blue eyes rimmed with red now.

  "I'm sorry to bother you," he said.

  "No, that's all right," she said.

  "I wanted to tell you hellip; we found the van, but we still haven't located the Citation. You said Brayne drove the van into the city today hellip;"

  "Yes."

  "So maybe the techs'll be able to lift his prints from the wheel. He hasn't got a criminal record, has he?"

  "Not that I know of."

  "Well, we'll run him through the computer, see what we come up with. Meanwhile, if the techs lift anything, and if we find the Citation, then maybe we'll know if he's the one who drove it away from the school. By comparing prints from the two wheels, do you see?"

  "Yes. But hellip; well, weall drove both cars a lot. I mean, you'll probably find my prints and Frank's together with Jimmy's. If you find any prints."

  "Uh-huh, yes, that's a possibility. But we'll see, okay? Meanwhile, Detective Brown has already put out a bulletin on Brayne, and we'll be watching all railroad stations, bus terminals, airports, in case he hellip;"

  "You'llbe watching?"

  "Well, not Brown and me personally. I mean the police. The bulletin's gone out already, as I said, so maybe we'll get some results there. If he's trying to get out of the city."

  "Yes," Marie said, and nodded.

  "Brown and I are gonna run back to the high school, see if anybody there saw what happened in that driveway."

  "Well hellip; will anyonebe there? I mean, won't the teachers hellip;?"

  "And the kids, yes, they'll be gone, that'll have to wait till morning. But the Custodian'll be there, and maybehe saw something."

  "Will it be the same custodian who was there this afternoon?"

  "I don't know, but we're going to check it out, anyway."

  "Yes, I see."

  "Meanwhile, I wanted to know whatyou plan to do. Do you have any relatives or friends here in the city?"

  "No."

  "Then will you be going back home? I know you're short of cash hellip;"

  "Yes, but there was money in Frank's wallet."

  "Well, the lab'll be running tests on the wallet and everything in it, so I can't let you have that. But if you want me to lend you train fare, or bus fare hellip; what I'm asking is whether or not you plan on going home, Mrs. Sebastiani. Because, honestly, there's nothing more you can do here."

  "I hellip; I don't know what I want to do," she said, and began crying again, burying her face in an already sodden handkerchief.

  Hawes watched her, awkward in the presence of her tears.

  "I'm not sure I want to go home," she said, her voice muffled by the handkerchief. "With Frank gone hellip;"

  The sentence trailed.

  She kept sobbing into the handkerchief.


  "You have to go home sometime," Hawes said gently.

  "I know, I know," she said, and blew her nose, and sniffed, and wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. "There are calls I'll have to make hellip; Frank's mother in Atlanta, and his sister hellip; and I guess hellip; I suppose I'll have to make funeral arrangements hellip; oh God, how are they going to hellip; what will they hellip;?"

  Hawes was thinking the same thing. The body was in four separate pieces. The body didn't have hands or a head.

  "That'll have to wait till autopsy, anyway," he said. "I'll let you know when hellip;"

  "I thought they'd already done that."

  "Well, that was a prelim. We asked for a preliminary report, you see. But the M.E.'ll want to do a more thorough examination."

  "Why?" she asked. "I've already identified him."

  "Yes, but we're dealing with a murder here, Mrs. Sebastiani, and we need to know hellip; well, for example, your husband may have beenpoisoned before the body was hellip; well hellip;"

  He cut himself short.

  He was talking too much.

  This was a goddamn grieving widow here.

  "There are lots of things the M.E. can tell us," he concluded lamely.

  Marie nodded.

  "So hellip;will you be going home?" he asked.

  "I suppose."

  Hawes opened his wallet, pulled out two twenties and a ten. "This should get you there," he said, handing the money to her.

  "That's too much," she said.

  "Well, tide you over. I'll give you a ring later tonight, make sure you got home okay. And I'll be in touch as we go along. Sometimes these things take a little while, but we'll be work hellip;"

  "Yes," she said. "Let me know."

  "I'll have one of the cars drop you off," he said. "Will you be going home by train or hellip; ?"

  "Train, yes."

  She seemed numb.

  "So hellip; uh hellip; whenever you're ready, I'll buzz the sergeant and he'll pull one of the cars off the street. I'd drive you myself, but Brown and I want to get over to the school."

  Marie nodded.

  And then she looked up and said mdash;perhaps only to herself mdash;"How am I going to live without him?"

  CHAPTER 7

  Genero was annoyed.

  He was the one who'd found the first piece of the body, and now allfour pieces were out of his hands. So to speak. He blamed it on seniority. Both Brown and Hawes had been detectives longer than he had, and so they'd immediately taken charge of a juicy homicide. So here he was, back on the street again, cruising like a goddamn patrolman. He was more than annoyed. He was enormously pissed.

  The streets at a quarter past ten were still teeming with people hellip; well, sure, who expected this kind of weather at the end of October? Guys in shirt sleeves, girls in summer dresses, everybody strolling up the avenue like it was summertime in Paris, not that he'd ever been there. Lady there on the corner with a French poodle, letting the dog poop right on the sidewalk, even though it was against the law. He wondered if he should arrest her. He considered it beneath his dignity, a Detective/Third having to arrest a lady whose dog was illegally pooping. He let the dog poop, drove on by.

  Made a cursory tour of the sector.

  Who else was out here?

  Kling?

  Came onto Culver, began heading east.

  Past the first liquor store got robbed tonight, then the second one hellip;

  What had they been talking about back there in the squad-room? Meyer and Carella. Midgets? Was it possible? Midgets holding up liquor stores? Those little Munchkins fromThe Wizard of Oz holding upliquor stores, for Christ's sake? He didn't know what kind of a world this was getting to be. He thanked God every night before he went to sleep that he had been chosen to enforce law and order in the kind of world this was getting to be. Even if sometimes he had a good ripe murder yanked out of his hands. The only way to get ahead in the Department was to crack a good homicide every now and then. Not that it had done Carella much good, all the homicides he'd cracked. Been a detective for how many years now? Still only Second Grade. Well, sometimes people got passed over. The meek shall inherit the earth, he thought. Still, he wished he'd had an honest crack at that homicide tonight. He was the one found the first piece, wasn't he?

  Onto Mason Avenue, the hookers out in force, well, Halloween, lots of guys coming uptown to look for the Great Pumpkin. Went home with the Great Herpes and maybe the Great AIDS. He wouldn't screw a Mason Avenue hooker if you gave him a million dollars. Well, maybe he would. For a million, maybe. That one on the corner looked very clean, in fact. But you could never tell. Anyway, she was Puerto Rican, and his mother had warned him against fooling around with any girls who weren't Italian. He wondered if Italian girls ever got herpes. He was positive they never got AIDS.

  Swinging north again, up one of the side streets, then onto the Stem, all gaudy and bright, he really loved this part of the hellip;

  "Boy One, Boy One hellip;"

  The walkie-talkie lying on the seat beside him. Dispatcher trying to raise hellip;

  "Boy One."

  Answering.

  "10-21 at one-one-four-one Oliver, near Sixth. Apartment four-two. 10-21 at one-one-four-one Oliver, near Sixth. See the lady."

  "What was that apartment again?"

  "Four-two."

  "Rolling."

  A burglary past, couple of blocks down and to the south. No need for a detective on the scene. If it had been a 10-30, an armed robbery in progress, or even a 10-34, an assault in progress, he'd have responded along with the blues. He guessed. Sometimes it was better not to stick your nose into too many things. A 10-13 mdash;an assist officer mdash;sure. Man called in for help, you got to the scene fast,wherever you were.

  Ran uptown on the Stem for a couple of blocks, made a right turn at random, heading south toward the park. He'd swing onto Grover there, parallel the park for a while, then run north to the river, come back down Silvermine, take a run around the Oval, then back south on hellip;