'Right over there in aisle 19. Gacy is down in 6. George Farley, killed twelve women, remember? Pickled them, kept them in jars in the basement? Over on 5. Even got a file on Dillinger, from when he was locked up after that bank robbery outside Gary. They had a touch of class about them, not like the bums these days. Drive-by shootings, easy store stickups, for Christ sake! World's really fucked up, Harve.'
'I couldn't agree more. You remember the Rushman case?'
'The archbishop? Hell, that was like yesterday. That what you're looking for?'
St Claire nodded. 'State versus Aaron Stampler. Trial ended in late March.'
'Anything specific?'
'Physical evidence.'
'Aw, shit. Let me tell you about physical evidence. By the time it gets here, it's pretty well picked over. All we get is what hasn't been claimed. And it's not in any particular order. Look around you. I couldn't tell you how many cases are stored in here - thousands, hell, hundreds of thousands - a lot of it misplaced or misfiled.'
'I was afraid of that. Thought maybe I'd luck out.'
'Well, hell, don't give up so easy.' The sergeant got a flashlight from a desk drawer and led St Claire down through the caverns of records. The odour of mildew and damp paper stung St Claire's nose. Felscher found the cardboard boxes filled with the Stampler records.
'I been down here before,' St Claire said. 'Must've been your day off. There wasn't any evidence here, it's all paper.'
'You're right,' Felscher said, sliding several of the boxes out of their nesting places, checking them, and pushing them back. 'What exactly are you after, anyway?'
'Some videotapes.'
'Sorry. But you're welcome to look around the place.' He swept his arm in a semicircle and laughed.
'Forget it. Thanks for your help, Claude.' They shook hands and St Claire started back down the dreary corridor of files.
'Don't feel too bad, Harve. They'd probably be pretty well deteriorated by now, anyway. This isn't exactly what you'd call a humidity-controlled facility.'
'I didn't wanna look at 'em, I was hopin' to find out if they were disposed of. And to whom.'
'Oh, now wait just a minute. Why didn't you say so? That's a little different story. You might still luck out.'
Felscher walked down the corridor to a series of bookshelves lined with long rows of canvas-bound ledgers identified by dates. He ran his forefinger along the spines.
'Let's see, September first to tenth, '82… December… February… Here we go, March twentieth through thirtieth, 1983.' Felscher pulled a mildewed and roach-gnawed ledger from the shelf. 'These are the index ledgers. Not a lot of help when you're looking for something, but…'
He opened the book and carefully turned the pages, which were yellowed with age and faded, the entries handwritten by the clerk of the court.
'Got to be careful. These old books'll fall apart on you. Stampler, Stampler, yeah, that was some big case, all right? Wonder whatever happened to him?'
'Still in Daisyland.'
'Good. The way he carved up the old bishop, they ought to keep him there forever.'
'Yeah,' St Claire agreed.
'Okay, here we go, March twenty-third… State versus Aaron Stampler, murder in the first. Here's the inventory. Let's see, got some bloody clothes, shoes, a kitchen knife, couple of books, and a ring, they were returned to the cathedral out on Lakeview, 2/4/83. What d'ya know, Harve, you did get lucky. Here we go, twenty-three videotapes. They were released to a Dr Molly Arrington, Winthrop, Indiana, 26/4/83.'
'Well, I'll be damned,' St Claire said, and his heart jumped a beat. 'She's got the whole damn tape library.'
The office was abandoned except for Parver, who was sitting alone in her small office. The thick Darby file lay on the desk in front of her, but she had tired of looking at it and had pulled the Stoddard file. She really did not want to deal with either of them. She was tired and had no place to go but home, and so she sat alone in her big office, fighting off what was a mounting malaise. Behind her, the lift door opened and Flaherty stepped off, carrying a battered old briefcase. He went to his office, threw the case on his desk, and only then noticed
