Tully said nothing. Someplace down the line he would have to program Mangiapane to get right to the point.
The silence told Mangiapane there would be no response. So he proceeded. “He did it again, Zoo. Kramer.”
“What?”
“Kramer did it again. This afternoon. Just like the other ones.”
“That’s impossible. Kramer’s locked up.”
“No he ain’t, Zoo. Somebody went bail for him yesterday.”
“Jesus! I didn’t know.”
“You weren’t here yesterday.”
“Who put up the cash?”
“Guy named Murphy ... the one with the Cadillac dealership.”
“I know who Murphy is. Now, take it slow, from the top”
“Okay, Zoo. Dom Salvia took the call about six this evening. Some broad calling in a homicide. Friend of hers. Part of their routine is they check on each other. They’re both hookers, Zoo. So when she checks she finds the other hooker dead in a bathtub.”
“Witnesses?”
“We haven’t found any yet. We’re still canvassing the neighborhood.”
“How’d you make Kramer?”
“Same M.O., Zoo. Exactly the same.”
“Everything?”
“Strangled, gutted, and branded.”
“Same brand?”
“Looks like it.”
Damn! thought Tully. Where the hell does he keep the goddam thing? “Who’s the victim?”
“This you ain’t gonna believe. One Mae Dixon.”
“Mae Dixon.” Pause. “Isn’t . . . isn’t that the broad from last Sunday?”
“That’s the one, Zoo. The same broad and the same place where we found Kramer last week.”
“Son . . . of . . . a . . . bitch,” Tully breathed with fervor. “What chutzpah! Same broad, same place. Well, that ties it. Let’s go get him.”
“Already have, Zoo. He’s right back where he was yesterday. We got the judge to revoke bail.”
“Good, good. Good! This time you got the goddam branding iron?”
“Negative, Zoo. We couldn’t find it. And, just like last week, when we read him his rights and told him he could remain silent, damned if he didn’t go that route again. He hasn’t said a word, let alone tell us where the iron is.”
“Then start over. Get the techs to go over the car again. Maybe this time he left it in there.”
“Right, Zoo.”
“I’ll be right down.” Tully hung up and turned to Alice.
“I could tell from your end of the conversation. Kramer did it again?”
“Uh-huh.”
“How come you didn’t know he got out on bail?”
“I probably would’ve heard about it if I’d been in yesterday or today. Too bad. I sure as hell would’ve put a tail on him. We’d have got him bare-naked. But that’s okay; we got him now.” Tully was struggling into his overcoat.
“You’re going down to headquarters?”
“Uh-huh.”
“From the look on your face, you’re going to enjoy this as much as you would’ve liked the back rub.”
“Apples and oranges, honey. But this ain’t gonna take all night. I’ll be back in a while. Maybe I’ll still have a chance to cash in that rain check.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
“We got him, Al.” Tully opened the front door and paused a moment before leaving. “Iron or no iron, this is the final nail in the coffin.”
He fairly levitated as he left the house.
33
Father Koesler could not help feeling uncomfortable. He was not the type to impose on anyone. Yet here he was waiting to see Inspector Koznicki on a busy Monday morning.
Koesler would not have dreamed of calling for an appointment had it not been for last night’s jolting news. For the third Sunday this month, the top story on radio and television had been the brutal murder of a Detroit prostitute. And for the second consecutive Sunday, Father Richard Kramer was accused of the crime.
Koesler had reached Koznicki rather late last night. The inspector had been his usual courtly self and graciously agreed to meet with Koesler at headquarters at ten o’clock the next morning.
After setting up the appointment with Koznicki, Koesler had phoned Sister Therese. As he had anticipated, she was devastated. She had seen Kramer only briefly after his release on bond. She had wanted him to go into seclusion somewhere to regain his energy and to avoid any further notoriety.
But he wouldn’t hear of it. Over her strenuous objections he had returned to Mother of Sorrows, even though the chancery had sent another priest to perform the weekend liturgies. Kramer had gone into his own form of seclusion, unfortunately right into the heart of the maelstrom. Even though he put himself in the exact spot where anyone who wanted to could find him, he wanted to be alone. So she had complied and hadn’t heard from or about him again until Sunday night when all hell had broken loose.
Koesler had talked to her at length, reassuring her and, finally, convincing her to stay at least temporarily with her parents, who lived in the far suburban community of Waterford Township. With Sister Therese safely tucked away, Koesler could turn full attention to the considerable mess in which Dick Kramer was mired.
As he waited for Inspector Koznicki—he was early for his appointment—he wondered again at the relatively small office space allotted to the head of a division as vital as homicide. Koznicki’s bulk made the office seem even smaller than it was. On the other hand, Walt Koznicki was not the type to stand on ceremony, demand perks, or expect obeisance. He was an extremely hard worker, who, if not in love with his work, respected its significance.
The door to Koznicki’s office opened and a detective Koesler had never met stepped into the hall. Noticing the priest, he greeted him with a smile that hadn’t been there previously. Koesler was used to the automatic deference frequently accorded the clergy.
“Father . . .” Koznicki created the impression he had nothing more important to do this busy Monday morning than give valuable time to the priest. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
“I’m early.” He knew Koznicki knew he was always early.
“Well, come in.” Koznicki stood aside so the priest could enter. They were both large men, though Koznicki outweighed Koesler by forty or fifty pounds.
Koesler took a chair near the desk. It was warm. Must have been used by the detective who had just exited. When Koznicki crossed behind the desk and was seated, the room seemed so crowded Koesler thought a disinterested third party might find the scene ludicrous. He decided from here on in he would have greater empathy with sardines.
“Tragic, tragic.” Koznicki folded his ham hands on the desktop and studied Koesler with great evident concern.
“According to this morning’s paper, Father Kramer is back in jail . . . is that true, Inspector?”
“Yes, sad to say, it is. We had to ask the judge to revoke bond. He really had no alternative.”
“I didn’t even know he was out of jail.”
“Understandable. It was approximately two days after bond was set that the bail was made. In a situation such as that, usually there is little publicity. Notoriety generally is attached to extremely public events like an arraignment or a preliminary examination, as happened in the case of Father Kramer. But unless Father Kramer, or someone else who happened to know, told you, more than likely, as happened here, you would have no way of knowing.
