five-one Precinct.”
“That’s fine. Thank you.”
“But it’s only for six months. After that, either you’ll be back on the job or we’ll have to put in a captain or deputy inspector.”
“I understand. Good enough. It’ll help with the problem of Lombard’s driver’s license.”
“What’s the problem?”
“I’m on leave of absence, but I’m still on the Department list. I’ve got to report the license is missing.”
“Edward, you worry too much.”
“Yes. I do. But I’ve got to report it.”
“That means Broughton will learn about it.”
“Possibly. But if there is another killing, and I think there will be, and Chief Pauley’s boys find the victim’s license is missing-or anything like it-they’ll check back with Lombard’s widow down in Florida. She’ll tell them I asked about the license and she couldn’t find it. Then my ass will be in a sling. Broughton will have me up for withholding evidence.”
“How do you want to handle it?”
“I’ve got to check the book, but as I recall, precinct reports of lost or stolen drivers’ licenses are sent to Traffic Department personnel who then forward the report to the New York State Department of Motor Vehicles. I’ll tell Dorfman about it and ask him to file the usual form. But Broughton might learn about it from Traffic. If they get a report that Frank Lombard’s license is missing, someone will start screaming.”
“Not to worry. We have a friend in Traffic.”
“I thought you might have.”
“Tell Dorfman to make out the usual form, but to call me before he sends it in. I’ll tell him the man to send it to in Traffic. It will get to the State, but no one will tip Broughton. Does that satisfy you?”
“Yes.”
“You’re playing this very cautiously, Edward.”
“Aren’t you?”
“Yes, I guess we are. Edward, tell me…”
“What?”
“Are you making any progress at all? Even if it’s something you don’t want to talk about yet?”
“Yes,” Delaney lied, “I’m making progress.”
He walked back to his home, head bent, hands deep in overcoat pockets, trundling through the damp, gloomy day. His lie to Thorsen depressed him. It always depressed him when it was necessary to manipulate people. He would do it, but he would not enjoy it.
Why was it necessary to keep Thorsen’s morale high? Because…because, Delaney decided, the Lombard homicide was more than just an intramural feud between the Broughton forces and the Thorsen-Johnson forces. In fact, he acknowledged, he had accepted their offer, not because he instinctively disliked Broughton and wanted him put down, or had any interest in Departmental politics, but because…because…because…
He groaned aloud, knowing he was once again at the bone, gnawing. Was it the intellectual challenge? The atavistic excitement of the chase? The belief he was God’s surrogate on earth? Why did he do it! For that universe of harmony and rhythm he had described so glowingly to Thomas Handry? Oh shit! He only knew, mournfully, that the time, mental effort and creative energy spent exploring his own labyrinthine motives might better be spent finding the man who sent a spike smashing into the skull of Frank Lombard.
He came up to his own stoop, and there was Lieutenant Dorfman ringing his bell. The lieutenant turned as he approached, saw Delaney, grinned, came bouncing down the steps. He caught up Delaney’s hand, shook it enthusiastically.
“I got it, Captain!” he cried. “Acting Commander for six months. I thank you!”
“Good, good,” Delaney smiled, gripping Dorfman’s shoulder. “Come in and have a coffee and tell me about it.”
They sat in the kitchen, and Delaney was amused to note that Dorfman was already assuming the prerogatives of his new rank; he unbuttoned his uniform blouse and sat sprawled, his long, skinny legs thrust out. He would never have sat in such a position in the Captain’s office, but Delaney could understand, and even approve.
He read the teletype Dorfman had brought over and smiled again.
“All I can tell you is what I said before: I’m here and I’ll be happy to help you any way I can. Don’t be shy of asking. There’s a lot to learn.”
“I know that, Captain, and I appreciate anything you can do. You’ve already done plenty recommending me.”
Delaney looked at him closely. Here it was again: using people. He forced ahead.
“I was glad to do it,” he said. “In return, there is something you can do for me.”
“Anything, Captain.”
“Right now, I am going to ask you for two favors. In the future, I will probably ask for more. I swear to you I will not ask you to do anything that will jeopardize your record or your career. If you decide my word is not sufficient-and believe me, I wouldn’t blame you if you thought that-then I won’t insist. All right?”
Dorfman straightened in his chair, his expression puzzled at first, then serious. He stared at Delaney a long moment, their eyes locked.
“Captain, we’ve worked together a long time.”
“Yes. We have.”
“I can’t believe you’d ask me to do anything I shouldn’t do.”
“Thank you.”
“What is it you want?”
“First, I want you to file a report with the Traffic Department of a missing driver’s license. I want it clearly stated on the report that I was the one who brought this matter to your attention. Before the report is sent in, I ask you to call Deputy Inspector Thorsen. He will give you the name of the man in the Traffic Department to send the report to. Thorsen has assured me the report will be forwarded to the New York State Department of Motor Vehicles in the usual manner.” Dorfman was bewildered.
“That’s not much of a favor, Captain. That’s just routine. Is it your license?”
“No. It’s Frank Lombard’s.”
Dorfman stared at him again, then slowly began to button up his uniform jacket.
“Lombard’s?”
“Yes. Lieutenant, if you want to ask questions, I’ll try to answer them. But please don’t be insulted if I say that in this matter, the less you know, the better.”
The tall, red-headed man stood, began to pace about the kitchen, hands thrust into his trouser pockets, He counted the walls, didn’t look at Delaney.
“I’ve been hearing things,” he said. “Rumors.”
“I imagine you have,” Delaney nodded, knowing there was scarcely a man in the Department, down to the lowliest probationary patrolman, who wasn’t dimly aware of the feuds and schisms amongst high-level commanders. “You don’t want to get involved in it, do you?”
Dorfman stopped and gripped the top rail of a kitchen chair with reddish hands, knuckles bulging. Now he looked directly at Delaney.
“No, Captain, I don’t want to get involved at all.”
“What I’ve asked so far is pure routine, is it not? I’m asking you to report a missing driver’s license. That’s all.”
“All right. I’ll call Thorsen, get the name of the man at the Traffic Department, and file a report. Do you know the license number?”
“No.”
“What is the second favor you want, Captain?”
There was something in his voice, something sad. The Captain knew Dorfman would do as he, Delaney, requested. But somehow, subtly, their relationship had changed. Dorfman would pay his debt as long as he was not compromised. But once he paid what he felt was enough, they would no longer be mentor and student, captain and
