that potty chair by myself, and swing back into bed whenever I want to. I know I’ll be able to do it. My arms and shoulders were always good. I’ve hung from my hands lots of times, and then pulled myself up.”
“That sounds great,” Delaney said admiringly. “But don’t overdo it. I mean, take it easy at first. Build your strength up gradually.”
“Oh sure. I know how to do it. We ordered one of those chairs, but it won’t be delivered for a couple of weeks. By that time I hope I’ll be able to flip myself in and out of bed with no sweat. The chair’s got a brake you can set so it won’t roll away from you while you’re getting into it. You realize what that means, Delaney? I’ll be able to sit up at that desk while I’m going through the sales checks. That’ll help.”
“It surely will,” the Captain smiled. “How you doing with the booze?”
“Okay. I haven’t stopped, but I’ve cut down-haven’t I, hon?”
“Oh yes,” his wife nodded happily. “I know because I’m only buying about half the bottles I did before.”
The two men laughed, and then she laughed. “Incidentally,” Case said, “the sales checks are going a lot faster than I expected.”
“Oh? Why is that?”
“I hadn’t realized how much of Outdoor Life’s business was in fishing and hunting gear, tennis, golf, even croquet and badminton and stuff like that. About seventy-five percent, I’d guess. So I can just take a quick glance, at the sales slip and toss it aside if it has nothing to do with mountaineering.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear that. Can I talk to you a few minutes? Not about the sales checks. Something else. Do you feel up to it?”
“Oh sure. I feel great. Hon, pull up a chair for the Captain.”
“I’ll get it,” Delaney told her, and brought the straight-backed desk chair over to the bedside and sat where he could watch Case’s face.
“A drink, Captain?”
“All right. Thank you. With water.”
“Hon?”
She went out into the kitchen. The two men sat in silence a few moments.
“What’s it all about?” Case asked finally.
“Mountain climbers.”
Later, in his own study, Captain Delaney took out his list, “The Suspect,” and began to add what Calvin Case had told him about mountain climbers while it was still fresh in his mind. He extrapolated on what Case had said, based on his own instinct, experience, and knowledge of why men acted the way they did.
Under “Physical” he added items about ranginess, reach, strength of arms and shoulders, size of chest, resistance to panic. It was true Case had said mountain climbers come “in all shapes and sizes,” but he had qualified that later, and Delaney was willing to go with the percentages.
Under “Psychological” he had a lot to write: love of the outdoors, risk as an addiction, a disciplined mind, no obvious suicide compulsion, total egotism, pushing to-what was it Case had said? — the “edge of life,” with nothing between you and death but your own strength and wit. Then, finally, a deeply religious feeling, becoming one with the universe-“one with everything.” And compared to that, everything else was “just mush.”
Under “Additional Notes” he listed “Probably moderate drinker” and “No drugs” and “Sex relations probably after murder but not before.”
He read and reread the list, looking for something he might have forgotten. He couldn’t find anything. “The Suspect” was coming out of the gloom, looming. Delaney was beginning to get a handle on the man, grabbing what he was, what he wanted, why he had to do what he did. He was still a shadow, smoke, but there was an outline to him now. He began to exist, on paper and in Delaney’s mind. The Captain had a rough mental image of the man’s physical appearance, and he was just beginning to guess what was going on in the fool’s mind. “The poor, sad shit,” Delaney said aloud, then shook his head angrily, wondering why he should feel any sympathy at all for this villain.
He was still at it, close to 1:00 a.m., when the desk phone rang. He let it ring three times, knowing-
“Yes?” he asked cautiously.
“Captain Delaney?”
“Yes.”
“Dorfman. Another one.”
Delaney took a deep breath, then opened his mouth wide, tilted his head back, stared at the ceiling, took another deep breath.
“Captain? Are you there?”
“Yes. Where was it?”
“On Seventy-fifth Street. Between Second and Third.”
“Dead?”
“Yes.”
“Identified?”
“Yes. His shield was missing but he still had his service revolver.”
“What?”
“He was one of Broughton’s decoys.”
Part VI
1
“I didn’t want him to suffer,” he said earnestly, showing her Bernard Gilbert’s ID card. “Really I didn’t.”
“He didn’t suffer, dear,” she murmured, stroking his cheek. “He was unconscious, in a coma.”
“But I wanted him to be happy!” Daniel Blank cried.
“Of course,” she soothed. “I understand.”
He had waited for Gilbert’s death before he had run to Celia, just as he had run to her after Lombard’s death. But this time was different. He felt a sense of estrangement, withdrawal. It seemed to him that he no longer needed her, her advice, her lectures. He wanted to savor in solitude what he had done. She said she understood, but of course she didn’t. How could she?
They were naked in the dreadful room, dust everywhere, the silent house hovering about them. He thought he might be potent with her, wasn’t sure, didn’t care. It was of no importance.
“The mistake was in coming from in front,” he said thoughtfully. “Perhaps the skull is stronger there, or the brain not as frail, but he fell back, and he lived for four days. I won’t do that again. I don’t want anyone to suffer.”
“But you saw his eyes?” she asked softly.
“Oh yes.”
“What did you see?”
“Surprise. Shock. Recognition. Realization. And then, at the final moment, something else…”
“What?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure. Acceptance, I think. And a kind of knowing calm. It’s hard to explain.”
“Oh!” she said. “Oh
As she spoke she had been touching him softly, arousing him slowly.
“Have you shaved a little here? And here?”
“What?” he asked vaguely, drugged by her caresses. “I don’t remember. I may have.”
