“Lucky guess. Actually I’ve made about six calls. This was a last resort.”
“That’s accurate. What’s on your mind?”
“Evans. What killed him?”
“You know perfectly well, Herbie-boy.”
“Wolves?”
“Werewolves. Same as killed the other six.”
“Six?”
“Sure. The bloody bench we found this morning was all that remained of number six. O-negative blood. No ID as yet beyond that.”
“Look, I gotta tell you there’s a hell of a lot of press out pounding the pavements on this one. We’re crawlin’ with ’em down here, plus the park’s full of ’em . Reporters from every damn where—Evans was a famous man. So far nobody’s made the connection between his death and the other murders. I mean, obviously there’re similarities. So don’t, if you know what I mean.“
“Oh, I won’t. I haven’t got enough proof so it might not embarrass you as much as it should. There’s a cake, but I ain’t got icing.”
“Like what?”
“Like evidence that will convince even you. When I’ve got that, I’ll go to the papers, but not before. That much you can count on.”
“Goddamn you, George. If it weren’t for Old One Forty-seven I’d sign your fuckin’ walking papers.”
“Well, Herbie, now what can you expect? You were a dumb kid and you’re a dumb grown-up. You should have given in a long time ago, when you first knew I was right.”
“Which was?”
“The first time you heard my story. It’s dead right and you know it. You’re just too damn stubborn to admit it, or too dumb. Probably both.”
This was followed by a silence at the other end of the line that lengthened until Wilson thought that Underwood had hung up on him. Finally he spoke. “Detective Wilson,” he said, “have you ever considered, if your story is true, what kind of public reaction it will cause?”
“Panic, mayhem, blood in the streets. Plus heads will roll. The heads of the people who didn’t do anything about it when they could.”
“My head. You’d sacrifice this city for
“Yeah. And you along with it. People will come back when they realize that the werewolves aren’t just a local attraction. But you won’t come back, Herbie. You’ll be completely retired.”
Underwood’s voice was bitter. “I must say, I hope to hell you’re wrong. Right now I can’t think of anything that’ll give me more pleasure than kicking your ass off the force. Now
“Good God,” Becky said, “what in hell ever possessed you to talk to him like that!”
“He’s a jerk. He was always a fuckin’ jerk. Hell, he was a jerk when he was runnin’ around in a dirty bathing suit half the summer. A fuckin’ two-bit jerk.”
“That doesn’t give you the right… I mean, I know you grew up together and all that… but my God, you’ll destroy both of us!”
“What in the world are you two talking about?”
They turned, surprised at the strange voice. A small man in a cheap raincoat stood there smiling more than he should. “Name’s Garner. New York
“Come back later. We don’t want any right now.”
“Oh, come on, Wilson, let him—”
“We don’t want any now!”
“Just one question—how come Doctor Evans was murdered in your car? You have any comment on that?” His eyes watched them. Of course he didn’t expect a straight answer. It was how they looked that counted. One way, he would know there was a story. Another way, he would know zip.
“Get the hell out of here!! Whassamatter, you deaf! Move!”
He scurried away, down the hall and up the stairs, smiling from ear to ear. He loved it! There was going to be a damn
“Sometimes I think maybe we should tell them something,” Ferguson asked when the reporter was gone. “I think it’ll help us if we got more people involved.”
“You tell them.”
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly. I haven’t got enough—”
“Evidence. Neither have we, and that’s why we can’t tell them either. We’ve got to wait until we get that clincher. Once we have it, we can blow the story from here to Moscow for all I care, but I’m certainly not going to break it early. Can you imagine—detective alleges werewolf killed M. E.? Underwood would dearly love that.”
