What time was it? Getting on toward midnight, Delaney guessed. On a long stake-out like this he very deliberately avoided looking at his watch. Start watching the clock, and you were dead; time seemed to go backwards. When the sky lightened, when it was dawn, then he could go home and sleep. Not before.
He varied his patrol, just to keep himself alert. Three up-and-downs on the apartment side. Crossing at different corners. Stopping in the middle of the block to retrace his steps. Anything to keep from walking in a dream. But always watching the lobby entrance. If his friend came out again, he’d come through there.
He finished his sandwich but saved the remainder of the brandy for later. It must be in the low 40’s or high 30’s by now; he put on his earmuffs. They were cops’ style, connected with a strip of elastic that went entirely around his head, and they fitted snugly. No metal band clamping them to his ears. That clamp could get so cold you thought your skull was coming off.
So what was this business about right hand, left hand, and slit pockets? He knew-no doubt at all-that Daniel Blank was guilty of four homicides. But what he needed was hard evidence, good enough to take to the DA and hope for an indictment. That was the reason for the Handry interview, and the follow-ups he’d have to make on Blank’s girl friend, the boy Tony, the Mortons. They were leads that any detective would investigate. They might peter out-probably would-but one of them might, just might, pay off. Then he could nail Danny Boy and bring him to trial. And then?
Then Delaney knew exactly what would happen. Blank’s smart, expensive lawyer would cop an insanity plea-“This sick man killed four complete strangers for no reason whatsoever. I ask you, Your Honor, were those the acts of a sane man?”-and Dan would be hidden away in an acorn academy for a period of years.
It would happen, and Delaney couldn’t object too strongly; Blank
It wasn’t only Dan’s motives he couldn’t understand; it was his own as well. His thoughts about it were nebulous; he would have to do a lot more pondering. But he knew that never in his life had he felt such an affinity for a criminal. He had a sense that if he could understand Dan, he might better understand himself.
Later in the morning, the sky lightening now, Delaney continued his patrol, swinging his arms, stamping his feet because the brandy had worn off; it was goddamned cold. He got back to the problem of Daniel G. Blank, and to his own problems.
The truth came to him slowly, without shock. Well, it was
What was in Daniel Blank, what was in him, what he hoped to demolish by putting Dan to death was evil, all evil. Wasn’t that it? The idea was so irrational that he could not face, could not consider it.
He looked up to the sky again; it was once again black. It had been a false dawn. He resumed his patrol, flinging his arms sideways to smack his own shoulders, slapping his feet on the pavement, shivering in the darkness.
The phone awoke him. When he looked at the bedside clock it was almost 11:00 a.m. He wondered why Mary hadn’t picked it up downstairs, then remembered it was her day off. And he had left a note for her on the kitchen table. He really hadn’t been functioning too well when he came off that patrol, but he felt okay now. He must have slept “fast”-as they said in the Army; those four hours had been as good as eight. “Captain Edward X. Delaney here.”
“This is Handry. I got that interview set up with Blank.”
“Good. When’s it for?”
“The day after Christmas.”
“Any trouble?”
“Noo…not exactly.”
“What happened?”
“I did just what you said, contacted the Javis-Bircham PR man. He was all for it. So I went to see him. You know the type: a big laugh and lots of teeth. I showed him my press pass but he didn’t even look at it. He’ll never check with the paper. He can’t believe anyone could con him. He’s too bright-he thinks.”
“So what went wrong?”
“Nothing went wrong…exactly. He suggested the names of four young, up-and-coming J-B executives-that’s the way he kept referring to the corporation, J-B, like IBM, GE and GM-but none of the four names was Blank’s.”
“Did you tell him you wanted to interview a guy familiar with the uses and future of the computer in business?”
“Of course. But he didn’t mention Blank. That’s odd-don’t you think?”
“Mmm. Maybe. So how did you handle it?”
“Told him I was particularly interested in AMROK II. That’s the computer mentioned in that release about Blank I dredged out of the Fink File. Remember?”
“I remember. What did he say to that?”
“Well, then, he mentioned Blank, and agreed when I said I wanted to interview him. But he wasn’t happy about it, I could tell.”
“It might be personal animosity. You know-office politics. Maybe he hates Blank’s guts and doesn’t want him to get any personal publicity.”
“Maybe,” Handry said doubtedly, “but that’s not the impression I got.”
“What impression did you get?”
“Just a crazy idea.”
“Let’s have it,” Delaney said patiently.
“That maybe Blank’s stock is falling. That maybe he hasn’t been doing a good job. That maybe the rumor is around that they’re going to get rid of him. So naturally the PR man wouldn’t want an article in the paper that says what a great genius Blank is, and a week later J-B ties a can to him. Sound crazy?”
Delaney was silent, thinking it over. “No,” he said finally, “not so crazy. In fact, it may make a lot of sense. Can you have lunch today?”
“You paying?”
“Sure.”
“Then I can have lunch today. Where and when?”
“How about that chophouse where we ate before?”
“Sure. Fine. Great ale.”
“About twelve-thirty? In the bar?”
“I’ll be there.”
The Captain went to shave. As he scraped his jaw, he thought that Handry’s impression might possibly be correct. Blank’s little hobby could be affecting his efficiency during office hours; that wasn’t hard to understand. He had been the corporation’s fairhaired boy when that Fink File release was sent out. But now they weren’t happy about his being interviewed by the press. Interesting.
Wiping away excess lather and splashing after-shave lotion on his face, Delaney decided he better brief Handry on the upcoming interview during lunch. The interview was scheduled for the day after Christmas. By that time Handry might be reporting the results to Broughton, if he wanted to. But Delaney was determined to do everything he possibly could right up to that 24-hour deadline Alinski had promised which, when the Captain left the house, was now only six hours away.
Handry ordered a broiled veal chop and draft ale. Delaney had a rye highball and steak-and-kidney pie.
“Listen,” the Captain said to the reporter “we’ve got a lot to get through, so let’s get started on it right away.”
Handry stared at him. “What’s up?” he asked.
“What’s up?” Delaney repeated, puzzled. “What do you mean, ‘What’s up’?”
“We’ve been sitting here five minutes at the most. You’ve already looked at your watch twice, and you keep fiddling with the silverware. You never did that before.”
“You should be a detective,” Delaney growled, “and go looking for clues.”
“No, thanks. Detectives lie too much, and they always answer a question with a question. Right?”
