moment. Kramer fumbled for a cigarette and lit it. “Mind if I smoke?” he asked after the fact.
“Mind if I see the lighter?” Tully reached toward Kramer, who surrendered the lighter.
“Nice,” Tully said. “Big.”
“I smoke a lot.”
“Big enough to heat, say, a small branding iron if there wasn’t a hot plate handy.”
“Huh? What? What’s that supposed to mean?” Father Kramer’s attitude became assertive. “I think it’s just about time for some explanations from you. I mean, I was called out of my rectory this afternoon and asked to visit someone who needed a priest. I went way out of my way to make a sick call. I didn’t break into this place. I knocked on the door. This woman invited me in. Then, for no reason, she pulled that huge knife out of the drawer. So, naturally, I drew my knife—in self-defense.”
“Pretty big knife.” Tully hefted the weapon. “Now why would a priest be carrying such a big, sharp knife?”
“I’m a carpenter as well as a pretty good mechanic. I always carry it with me. Frequently I’ll whittle on some wood.”
“Okay, go on: You say she pulled a knife, so you did too. Then . . .?”
“That’s it. I asked her to put her knife away. And she started screaming at me. That’s when the two of you broke down the door.”
Tully turned to the woman. “What’s your name?”
“Mae Dixon.”
“Okay, Mae, the next time you tell your story, you’re gonna be under oath. If you lie then, it’s perjury. And if you change your story too many times, nobody’s gonna believe you. You see Officer Mangiapane over there, taking notes, writing all this down? Well, it’s part of the record. It’s admissible in court.
“Now, if you change your story in court, the judge is gonna have two different accounts from you about this. What’s he gonna believe? You might be tellin’ the truth in court. But if they don’t believe you then, that’ll be perjury. And that’s jail for a long, long time.
“So, how about it, Mae? You want to tell us the story the way you’d tell it in court?”
She thought this over. “Okay. I don’t know how the hell he happened to come here. I wasn’t expecting anyone. Just takin’ the day off, like.”
“You weren’t ‘expecting anyone’? You are then . . .”
“A hooker. God, you’re gonna find that out anyway. Yeah, I’m a hooker. But I wasn’t gonna screw today. Then all of a sudden, there’s this knock on the door. I thought maybe it was one of my regulars.”
“No appointments? You get Johns just any old time?”
She cackled. “These days I’m lucky to get any tricks at all, Sonny. But it wasn’t always like this. Once upon a time, a long time ago, they were waitin’ for me to have time for them. But, God, that was a long time ago.”
“Go on.”
“Where was I?”
“You heard a knock on the door. You thought it might be one of your regulars.”
“Yeah. That’s right. So I just said, ‘Come on in.’ Hell, no use lockin’ that door; all you have to do is push it . . . locked or unlocked. God! Look what you did to the goddam thing! It’s in splinters.”
“Okay, then what?”
“Where was I?”
Tully sighed. “Someone knocked on the door. You invited him in even though you didn’t know who it was.”
“You don’t understand. Regulars do that. They just come on up. If I’m busy, they wait.”
Tully couldn’t decide whether the idea of people waiting in line for Mae was funny or was going to make him sick. “Then what happened?”
“Well, this guy, this priest, I guess, came in. He surprised me. I mean, he wasn’t no regular. I never seen him before. And he’s all dressed in black. Then I saw his collar. That’s when I went for my knife.”
“So,” Tully said, “he didn’t have a knife in his hand when he came in.”
She worked her mouth as if chewing on her next word. “Well, no . . . not ’zactly . . . not really.”
“Sure?”
“Yeah . . . but what else could it be? I saw them stories in the papers and on TV—about how this guy dressed like a clergyman was killin’ us. When it happened the second time, why, hell, wasn’t a hooker in town wasn’t on her guard. And by damn, I wasn’t goin’ down without a fight. So I got my knife. Then, quick as a wink, don’t he pull out that shiv and shake the blade out real professional. And that’s when I started yellin’. I guess I didn’t expect any help . . . not around here. But I thought if I started yellin’ I might scare him off. Then you guys come stormin’ in like gangbusters.
“I didn’t know what the hell to think. I’ll tell you, I never thought I’d be glad to see a cop!”
“Is that what this is all about?” Kramer said. “It’s just a case of mistaken identity. Whoever phoned me was either a practical joker or he was confused about the address. When I came in, this lady simply confused me with someone else.”
Kramer looked from one officer to the other, not sure whether it would be possible for him to just walk out.
“That’s the way you see it, Kramer,” Tully said, “but that’s not the way I see it.
“On two consecutive Sundays, a man in black, with a clerical collar, driving a black Ford Escort, has been selecting over-the-hill white prostitutes to kill and mutilate. I had a hunch he’d do it again on the third consecutive Sunday afternoon—today. Then you drive into this red-light district in a black Ford Escort, dressed in clerical clothing and collar. You head for the apartment of a woman who fits the general description of the previous two victims. You’re carrying a knife that could gut a deer. Guess who I think you are?”
“You can’t . . .” Kramer was perspiring freely. The apartment was warm, but that had little to do with the sweat that soaked his underclothing.
“Remember last week, Kramer,” Tully continued, “when you went back to your car after you killed Nancy Freel? You were going back to mutilate her. Remember just before you reentered the building, you looked to one side and maybe you saw the woman who was watching you? Well, she’s our eyewitness. And she’s going to identify you.” Tully was almost nose to nose with Kramer.
Kramer shook his head as if denying all this was happening.
“Open your jacket, Father Kramer,” Tully ordered.
Near petrified with nameless apprehension, Kramer fumbled with the single button that held the front of his jacket together. As he undid the button, the jacket fell open.
Tully smiled. “That’s one of the widest belts I’ve seen. That belt might just hang you . . . Father.”
“W . . . what . . .?”
“Officer Mangiapane is going to read you your rights. Listen to them carefully. Then we’re gonna take a very short ride down the block to Police Headquarters.”
There was the sound of footsteps running up the stairs.
For an instant, Tully wondered who it might be. Then he remembered: He had called for back-up from the other detectives on his squad who were on surveillance in other districts.
They certainly had taken their sweet time getting here. He could have been dead by now!
When he got a chance, he would read them the riot act. But for now, he felt too satisfied and fulfilled to stay angry at anybody.
20
Bob Pisor, weekend anchor man for Channel 4 News, opened the 11:00 P.M. report with an account of the arrest of the Cass Corridor Ripper, as he had been christened by the local news media.
“Police announced tonight,” Pisor said, “that there has been an arrest in the Cass Corridor Ripper case. For the past two weeks, fear has plagued the city’s ladies of the evening, as a killer who first murders, then mutilates his victims, has been on the loose.
“According to witnesses, who have provided the police with a sketch of the suspect, the man has been garbed as a clergyman. Until tonight, police had no other clues in this case. But in a surprising twist, an arrest was
