not shoot from the hip. If he had, the second shot probably would have hit him in his own chin. So he either fired with the piece under his armpit or against his shoulder. From all this we can make a pretty good guess at the killer’s height. Mr. Barret?’
Barret had drawn a diagram on a sheet of paper and was punching the keys of a small pocket calculator. ‘Five- nine tops. More likely five-seven or eight. Also from the position of the two shots, I would say you’re looking for an over- under double-barrel rather than a side-by-side.’
‘Pretty common, right?’ Friscoe said.
‘Yes,’ said Barret, ‘I wouldn’t waste my time trying to trace the gun. The significant thing is that it adds to his m.o.’
‘The more you talk, the more I think we better get Riley and company up here fast,’ Friscoc said. ‘Let Homicide and the OC worry about it — it’s their problem.’
‘If D’Agastino gets involved you can forget it,’ The Nosh said. ‘Before it’s over, he and Riley will be killing each other. That D’Agastino actually keeps evidence to himself so the OC can get the glory.’
‘That’s okay. I’ll put Riley against him any day. You ain’t seen nothin’ till you’ve seen that crazy Irishman mad.’
‘Barney, Phil Riley got his job because he deserved it. D’Agastino is a politician. In your experience which gets preference ih the official hierarchy, politics — or talent? Riley’s going to spend weeks wading through the red tape and then he’ll be lucky if the case stays in his department.’ Twigs took out his Maalox bottle and celebrated his analysis with a swig of brandy.
‘Let’s add up what we know about the shooter, shall we’?’ Barret said. ‘I think we’re looking for an old-timer, some.. one with definite habits. Extremely cautious, a careful planner, experienced enough to be sure of himself. I’d say he goes back a ways. The young ones avoid habits. They vary their methods constantly to avoid detection. The older ones are too set in their ways. They follow traditions. They’re scared to make changes. They stick with what they know works. So I’d say an old-timer definitely. Late forties, early fifties at least, maybe older. Five-seven to five-nine. Quite possibly a contact killer, someone who likes to work close to the victim, perhaps even psychopathic in that sense. Mafia and possibly an executioner fairly high in the Mafia hierarchy, because of the garlic thing. The use of garlic these days, I would think, is part of his ritual, something associated with luck or tradition.’
‘Thank you, Mr. Barret,’ Twigs said.
‘Thank you, Mr. Grimm,’ Barret said.
Papa broke into the conversation from the balcony. ‘You know what I think?’
‘God knows,’ Friscoe said.
‘The fink was watchin’ the apartment. Had to’ve been. Wouldn’t stand in the stairwell all day waitin’ for her to come home. Wouldn’t be out in the open — too easy to spot. Phone call was probably to make sure she was home. Had to be where he could see lights come on. He was watchin’. From over there someplace.’ He gestured towards the east tower.
They all looked towards the other building, at the irregular boxes of light shining through apartment windows. Sharky felt a sudden chill. Goose pimples rippled along his arm and he rubbed them away as surreptitiously as he could. Perhaps the killer had been there, all day, watching as Sharky listened from his perch on the roof. Anger began replacing the sorrow he felt for Domino, worms nudging his instinct for revenge, urging it into motion. He remembered the previous day when they were planting the mikes in the apartment and Domino had returned. He said, ‘Papa’s right. He had to be watching. It happened too fast to be luck or coincidence. And you can’t see this apartment from the street. Yesterday Arch had to warn The Nosh and me when we were up here. We couldn’t see her when she came home.’
‘You can’t see it too good from the swimming terrace, either,’ Papa said. ‘Which leaves the north side of the building, and that’s all residential, a lot of trees and backyards. . .‘
‘And over there,’ Papa said.
They all stood on the balcony, looking across at the east tower.
‘He could be sitting over there watching us right now,’ said Twigs.
‘You kiddin”?’ Friscoe said, ‘He’s halfway to Detroit by now.’
‘Makes sense, y’know,’ Barret agreed. ‘Perhaps an empty apartment?’
‘Too chancy,’ Friscoe said. ‘He’s sittin’ in there, somebody comes in for a look-see, a prospective tenant, you know. Bingo, he’s made. Too smart for that.’
‘How about somebody who’s out of town?’ Sharky suggested.
‘Sounds like a lot of crap shootin’ to me,’ Friscoe said.
‘No,’ Twigs said, ‘it’s deduction. And that’s what’s going to break this one no matter who handles it. You, D’Agastino, Riley, or whoever.’
‘There’s not enough physical evidence at this point. I agree,’ Barret said.
‘I think,’ said Sharky, ‘it’s time to have a chat with the security man.’
‘Look,’ Friscoe said, ‘if we are gonna do this we can’t even tell the press she’s dead. We can’t even n3tify her next of kin. What the fuck are you going to tell the security man?’
Sharky smiled for the first time since Domino had been killed. ‘I’m goin’ to con him,’ he said. ‘How do you think I stayed alive on the street for eighteen months?’
The security guard was in his office watching an old Randolph Scott movie on television when Sharky appeared at the doorway. He smiled and said, ‘Hi.’
The guard nodded back. ‘Everything copasetic up there?’ he said.
‘Yeah, sure,’ Sharky said. He lit a small cigar. ‘Old Randy was tough, wasn’t he?’
The security guard said, ‘Don’t make ‘em like that anymore,’ without taking his eyes off the screen.
