began to come in on printouts from city, state, and federal computers.
What he would do, he decided, was this: he would ask Monica Gilbert to make notations of any criminal history on the individual cards. He would buy five or six packages of little colored plastic tabs, the kind that could be clipped on the upper edge of file cards. He would devise a color code: a red tab attached to a card would indicate a motor vehicle violation, a blue tab would indicate a New York City criminal record…and — so forth. When reports were in from all computers, he could then look at Monica Gilbert’s file box and, without wasting time flipping through 116 cards, see at a glance which had one, two, three or more plastic tabs attached to their upper edges. He thought it over, and it seemed an efficient plan.
His mind was working so sluggishly that it was some time before he wondered why he hadn’t brought Monica Gilbert’s card file home with him, to keep in his own study. The computer printouts Thorsen would obtain would be delivered to him, Delaney. He could make handwritten notations on individual cards himself and attach the color- coded plastic tabs. It wasn’t necessary for him to run over to Mrs. Gilbert’s apartment to consult the file every time he needed to. So why…Still…She
He dragged himself up to bed, took no shower and no sleeping pill, but lay awake for at least an hour, trying to understand himself. Not succeeding, he finally slid into a thin sleep.
3
It began to come together. Slowly. What he had set in motion. The first report on the 116 names came from the New York State Department of Motor Vehicles: a neatly folded computer printout, an original and six copies. Delaney took a quick look, noted there were 11 individuals listed, tore off a carbon for his own file, and took the report over to Monica Gilbert. He explained what he wanted:
“It’s easy to read once you get the hang of it. It’s computer printing-all capitals and no punctuation-but don’t let that throw you. Now the first one listed is AVERY JOHN H on East Seventy-ninth Street. You have Avery’s card?”
Obediently she flipped through her file and handed him the card.
“Good. Now Avery was charged with going through an unattended toll booth without tossing fifty cents in the hopper. Pleaded guilty, paid a fine. It’s printed here in a kind of official lingo, but I’m sure you can make it out. Now I’d like you to make a very brief notation on his card. If you write, ‘Toll booth-guilty-fine,’ it will be sufficient. I’d also like you to note his license number and make of car, in this case a blue Mercury. All clear?”
“I think so,” she nodded. “Let me try the next one myself. ‘BLANK DANIEL G on East Eighty-third Street; two arrests for speeding, guilty, fined. Black Corvette and then his license number. ’ Is that what you want on this card?”
“Right. In case you’re wondering, I’m not going to lean on these particular people. This report is just possible background stuff. The important returns will come from city and federal files. One more thing…”
He showed her the multicolored plastic tabs he had purchased in a stationery store, and explained the color code he had written out for her. She consulted it and clipped red tabs onto the top edges of the AVERY and BLANK cards. It looked very efficient, and he was satisfied.
Calvin Case called to report he had finished going through the Outside Life sales checks and had a file of 234 purchases of ice axes made in the past seven years. Delaney brought him a hand-drawn map of the 251st Precinct, and by the next day Case had separated those purchases made by residents of the Precinct. There were six of them. Delaney took the six sales checks, went home, and made two lists. One was for his file, one he delivered to Monica Gilbert so she could make notations on the appropriate cards and attach green plastic tabs. He had hardly returned home when she called. She was troubled because one of the six ice ax purchasers was not included in her master file of Outside Life customers. She gave him the name and address.
Delaney laughed. “Look,” he said, “don’t let it worry you. We can’t expect perfection. It was probably human error; it usually is. For some reason this particular customer wasn’t included on the mailing list. Who knows-maybe he said he didn’t want their catalogue; he doesn’t like junk mail. Just make out a card for him.”
“Yes, Edward.”
He was silent. It was the first time she had used his given name. She must have realized what she had done for suddenly she said, in a rush, “Yes, Captain.”
“Edward is better,” he told her, and they said goodby.
Now he could call her Monica.
Back to his records, remembering to start a new list for Thorsen headed by the single ax purchaser not included on the original list. Two days later Monica Gilbert had finished going through the new mailing list he had given her, and 34 more names were added to her master file and to the new list for Thorsen. And two days after that, Calvin Case had finished flipping through sales checks of the two additional New York stores that sold ice axes, and the names of three more purchasers in the 251st Precinct were added to Monica’s file, green plastic tabs attached, and the names also added to the new Thorsen list. Delaney had it delivered to the Deputy Inspector.
Meanwhile computer printouts were coming in on the original 116, and Monica Gilbert was making notations on her cards, and attaching colored tabs to indicate the source of the information. Meanwhile Calvin Case was breaking down his big file of Outside Life receipts of sales of any type of mountaineering equipment, to extract those of residents of the 251st Precinct. Meanwhile Christopher Langley was visiting official German agencies in New York to determine the manufacturer, importer, jobbers and retail outlets that handled the ice ax in the U.S. Meanwhile, Captain Edward X. Delaney was personally checking out the six people who had purchased ice axes at the other two stores. And reading “Honey Bunch” to his wife.
Ever since he had been promoted from uniformed patrolman to detective third grade, Delaney, following the advice of his first partner-an old, experienced, and alcoholic detective who called him “Buddy Boy”-had collected business cards. If he was given a card by a banker, shoe salesman, mortician, insurance agent, private investigator-whatever-he hung onto it, and it went into a little rubber-banded pack. Just as his mentor had promised, the business cards proved valuable. They provided temporary “cover.” People were impressed by them; often they were all the identification he needed to be banker, shoe salesman, mortician, insurance agent, private investigator-whatever. That little bit of pasteboard was a passport; few people investigated his identity further. When he passed printing shops advertising “100 Business Cards for $5.00” he could understand how easily conmen and swindlers operated.
Now he made a selection of his collected cards and set out to investigate personally the nine residents of the 251st Precinct who had purchased ice axes in the past seven years. He had arranged the nine names and addresses according to location, so he wouldn’t have to retrace his steps or end the day at the other end of the Precinct. This was strictly a walking job, and he dug out an old pair of shoes he had worn on similar jobs in the past. They were soft, comfortable kangaroo leather with high laced cuffs that came up over his ankles.
He waited until 9:00 a.m., then began his rounds, speaking only to doormen, supers, landlords, neighbors…
“Good morning. My name’s Barrett, of Acme Insurance. Here’s my card. But I don’t want to sell you anything. I’m looking for a man named David Sharpe. He was listed as beneficiary on one of our policies and has some money coming to him. He live here?”
“Who?”
“David Sharpe.”
“I don’t know him.”
“This is the address we have for him.”
“Nah, I never-wait…What’s his name?”
“David Sharpe.”
“Oh yeah. Chris’, he move away almost two years ago.”
“Oh. I don’t suppose you have any forwarding address?”
“Nah. Try the post office.”
“That’s a good idea. I’ll try them.”
