The Wolfen

“Background atmosphere,” Wilson cut in. “It’s not important. There are probably higher levels in your blood right now.”

“Did anybody check their car, find out if the exhaust system was defective?”

Wilson laughed, a sneering little noise in the back of his throat. Becky wished to God he had never made that sound. “The CO count wasn’t high enough.”

“It’s an angle, man! If I can use that, I don’t have to put this case down to The Unexplained. Think about what we’re confronting here! Cops were killed by dogs. It’s stupid. It’s bad for the department, it makes the men look like a bunch of jerkoffs, getting themselves killed by a pack of mutts. You don’t tell the papers, yeah, here are a couple of dopes who got themselves done in by a bunch of dogs, didn’t even have the sense to defend themselves. I can’t make a statement like that.”

“Which is why you’ll try to get the Commissioner to make the statement. You don’t want to be associated with it.”

“It’s his responsibility, Detective. And I don’t think I like your attitude!”

“Thank you.”

The Chief’s eyes bored into Wilson’s impassive face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Thank you. Nothing more or less. I’ve told you all I know about this case. Give me a few more days and a little luck and I’ll know more. As far as the cause of death is concerned, it appears to have been the dogs. I don’t like it any more than you do, I’ve got to tell you. But those are the facts. If you want a statement for the press, that’s got to be it.”

“The hell. The carbon monoxide did it. Had to. And that’s damn well what I’m going to say.”

“Have you considered the consequences, sir?” Becky said. She had, and a statement like the one Underwood planned to make was a serious mistake, even a dangerous one.

“Like?”

“Well, if the men were conscious—and we all know they probably were—it means that we’ve got something very dangerous out there. Something the public ought to be made aware of, and the police ought to take steps to eliminate.”

“Yeah, but that’s no problem because I intend to order that damn dump cleared of wild dogs. I’ll send in the Tactical Patrol Force and clean it out. There won’t be another problem no matter how those dogs got to DiFalco and Houlihan. Even if the men were conscious it doesn’t make any difference because by this time tomorrow the dogs are going to be dead. I’m going to say that the officers were suffering from carbon monoxide poisoning and were attacked by the dogs while they were unconscious or semiconscious.” He cleared his throat. “All right with you?”

“It’s your statement, Chief,” Wilson said.

“OK, don’t you do or say anything to contradict it, you understand. Just keep your problems to yourself. And as of right now you’re off the case.”

Becky was astonished. This had never happened to them before; people always put up with Wilson, endured him. Being pulled off this case was a blow to his prestige and to hers. She could have kicked him for his Goddamn bullheadedness.

“It won’t last, Underwood,” Wilson said quietly. “You can kick us around and you can make any damn statement you want, but in the end you’re going to be embarrassed. This thing isn’t going to go away.”

“The hell it isn’t. You wait and see.”

“Something damn strange happened out there.”

“Nothing the TPF can’t deal with.” His face was getting blotchy; this was almost too much for his temper. “Nothing we can’t deal with! Unlike you! You two can’t seem to put this case together! Dogs indeed —that’s ludicrous. It isn’t even a good excuse, much less a solution. Here I’ve got this whole town screaming at me for a solution and you give me bullshit!” Suddenly he glared at Becky. “And another thing, sweetheart. I’ve heard the rumors about your sweet husband. This DA ought to be doing a little investigating into the Neff family instead of trying to dig up some kind of organized crime links to supply motive for the killers of DiFalco and Houlihan. We’ve got a bent cop’s wife right here—or is it a family affair, dear?”

The Assistant DA remained tight-lipped, staring like a statue at the Oriental rug. At the Chief’s words the whole room seemed to sway; Becky felt her head tightening, the blood rushing, her heart thundering. What in the name of God was he implying! Was Dick in trouble? She knew that she herself was an honest cop. And Dick had to be too. Had to be. Like Wilson. He had to be as honest as Wilson.

“You think we’re incompetent,” Wilson said mildly, “why not convene a Board of Inquiry? Present your facts.”

“Shut up and get out. Your superior officers will handle this from now on.”

“Which means there’s going to be a Board?”

“Shut up and get out!”

They left, even Wilson perceiving that the meeting was terminated. “I’m going home,” Becky said to her boss as the elevator dropped toward the garage. “Want a lift?”

“Nah. I’m gonna go over to Chinatown, get some supper. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“See you.”

That was that for today. Another charming day in the life of a lady cop.

Traffic was heavy and she had missed the evening news by the time she got home. No matter, the Chief’s statement wouldn’t make it on the air until eleven o’clock.

When she arrived at their small upper East Side apartment, Becky was disappointed that Dick wasn’t there. Mechanically she ran the Phone-Mate. Dick’s voice said he’d be in about three A.M. Great. A lonely night just when you need it the most.