“What the hell are you doing, Edward?” he cried. “Kissing the poor bastard?”
“Smell him,” Delaney said. “Smell the mustache. Garlic, wine, and something else.”
Ferguson leaned forward cautiously, and sniffed at the thick mustache.
“Anise,” he said. “Wine, garlic, and anise.”
“That’s an Italian dinner,” one of the detectives said. “Maybe he stiffed the waiter and the guy followed him down here and offed him.”
No one laughed.
“He is Italian,” someone said. “His name isn’t Lombard, it’s Lombardo. He dropped the ‘o’ when he went into politics. His district in Brooklyn is mostly Jewish.”
They looked up. It was Lieutenant Rizzo from the 251st. “How do you know, lieutenant?”
“He’s-was my wife’s cousin. He was at our wedding. His mother lives around here somewhere. I called my wife. She’s calling relatives, trying to find out the mother’s address. My wife says Lombard came over from Brooklyn occasionally to have dinner with his mother. She’s supposed to be a good cook.”
The five men climbed shakily to their feet and brushed their damp knees. Dr. Ferguson signaled toward the ambulance, and two men came forward lugging a canvas body bag. A man came from the laboratory van with a plastic bag and a small pair of tongs to retrieve the wallet.
“Edward,” Ferguson said, “I forgot to ask. How is your wife getting along?”
“She was operated on tonight. Or rather yesterday afternoon.”
“And…?”
“They had to take out one of her kidneys.”
Ferguson was silent a moment, then…“Infected?”
“That’s what Spencer told me. Bernardi observed the operation but I can’t get hold of him.”
“The prick. As soon as I get to a phone I’ll try to find out what the hell is going on. Where can I reach you.”
“The precinct house probably. We’ll have to re-shuffle schedules and figure out how many uniformed men we can spare for door-to-door questioning. They’re taking our detectives away.”
“I heard. Edward, I’ll call if I learn anything. If I don’t call, it means I haven’t been able to reach Spencer or Bernardi.” Delaney nodded. Dr. Ferguson climbed into the back of the ambulance, and it went whining away. Lt. Dorfman was moving toward him, but the deputy commissioner came out of the darkness and clamped a hand on Delaney’s elbow. The Captain didn’t like to be touched; he tugged his arm gently away.
“Delaney?”
“Yes sir.”
“My name’s Broughton. B-r-o-u-g-h-t-o-n. I guess we never met.”
They had, but Delaney didn’t mention it. The two officers shook hands. Broughton, a thick, shapeless man, motioned Delaney toward the black limousine. He opened the back door, waved Delaney in, climbed in beside him.
“Go get a coffee, Jack,” he commanded the uniformed driver.
Then they were alone. Broughton offered a cigar but Delaney shook his head. The deputy lighted up furiously, the end of the cigar flaring, the car filling with harsh smoke.
“It’s a piece of shit,” he said angrily. “Why the hell can’t we get Havana cigars? We’re defeating Communism by smoking horse shit? What kind of insanity is that?”
He sat back, staring out the window at the sidewalk where someone had chalked an outline around the corpse before it was removed.
“A lot of flak on this one, Captain,” Broughton said loudly. “A
“I read his statements in the newspapers and I saw him on television.”
“Yeah, he got the publicity. So you know what we’re up against. ‘Crime in the streets…no law and order… hoodlums and muggers running wild…shake up the police department…the Commissioner should resign…’ You know. The shithead was running for Mayor. Now he’s knocked off, and if we don’t pull someone in, it proves he was right. You understand how serious this is, Captain.”
“I consider every homicide serious.”
“Well…yeah…sure. But the politics involved. You understand that?”
“Yes sir.”
“All right. That’s one thing. Now the other thing…This killing couldn’t have happened at a worst time. You get the Commissioner’s memo about precinct detectives?”
“Memorandum four six seven dash B dated eight October; subject: Detective division, reorganization of? Yes sir, I received it.”
Broughton laughed shortly. “I heard about you, Delaney. Yeah, that’s the memo.” He belched suddenly, a ripe, liquid sound. He didn’t excuse himself, but scratched in his crotch. “All right, we’re pulling all the detectives out of the precinct houses. You’re next on the list. You got the notification?”
“Yes.”
“Starts on Monday. All detectives will be organized in special units-homicide-, burglary and larceny, truck thefts, hotel thefts, and so on. Uniformed officers will make the first investigation of a crime. You’re going to give your cops a crash course on what to look for. It’s all spelled out in a manual you’ll be getting. The investigating officers file a report. If it’s a major theft, say, involving more than $1,500 in money or goods, the detective unit takes over. If it’s a minor crime, say b-and-e or a mugging, the patrolman does what he can or reports it unsolvable. We tried it out in two test precincts, and we think it’s going to work. What do you think?”
“I don’t like it,” Delaney said promptly. “It takes detectives out of the precincts and out of the neighborhoods. Sometimes they make their best busts just by knowing the neighborhood-who’s missing, new hoods who have shown up, who’s been flashing a roll. And of course they all have their neighborhood informers. Now, as I understand it, one specialized detective unit might be covering as many as four or five precincts. I like the idea of uniformed men getting experience in investigation work. They’ll like that. They’ll be functioning like detectives-which is what most of them thought police work was all about, instead of taking old people to hospitals and settling family squabbles. But while they’re investigating and making out that preliminary report, they’re off the beat, and I’ll have less men on patrol and visible. I don’t like that.”
Broughton pried a fingertip roughly into one nostril, dug out some matter, rolled it into a ball between thumb and forefinger. He opened the car window and flicked it outside.
“Well, you’re going to have to live with it,” he said coldly. “At least for a year until we get some numbers and see what’s happening to our solution rates. But now this son of a bitch Lombard gets hit right in the middle of the change-over. So we have Homicide North still in existence, the new homicide unit covering your precinct, and you still got your precinct detectives. Jesus Christ, all those guys will be walking up each other’s heels, covering the same ground-and whose responsibility is it? It’s going to be as fucked up as a Chinese fire drill It is already. You got any ideas how to straighten it out?”
Delaney looked up in surprise. The final question had come so suddenly, so unexpectedly, that even though he had wondered about the reason for this private talk, he wasn’t prepared for the demand.
“Can you give me twenty-four hours to think it over? Maybe I can come up with something.”
“No good,” Broughton said impatiently. Right now I got to go out to the airport to pick up the Commissioner, and I got to have some suggestions on how to straighten out this mess. He’ll want action. The Mayor and every councilman will be leaning on him. And if he don’t produce, it’s probably his ass. And if it’s his ass, it’s my ass too. You understand?”
“Yes.”
“You agree that right now it’s screwed up as far as organization goes?”
“Yes.”
“Christ, you’re a regular chatterbox, ain’t you?” Broughton farted audibly and squirmed his buttocks on the car seat. “I been hearing how smart you are, Captain. Okay, here’s your chance; give me a for-instance right now.”
Delaney looked at him with distaste, recognizing the man’s crude energy but angered by his bullying,
