'It make a difference?'
'I don't know.'
'If somebody was going to copy the killer, they'd copy him completely, wouldn't they?'
'You'd think so.'
'Unless it was him and he was rushed for a change. Who knows with a crazy person, anyway? Maybe this time God told him only stab one eye. Who knows?'
He went for another beer and offered me one but I passed. I didn't want to hang around long enough to drink it. I had really only had one question to ask him and his answer had done nothing but confirm the medical report. I suppose I could have asked it over the phone, but then I wouldn't have had the same chance to probe his memory and get a real sense of what he'd found in that kitchen. No question now that he'd gone back in time and seen Susan Potowski's body all over again. He wasn't guessing that she'd been stabbed in both eyes. He had closed his own eyes and seen the wounds.
He said, 'Sometimes I wonder. Well, when I read about them arresting this Pinell, and now with you coming over here. Suppose I wasn't the one walked in on the Potowski woman? Or suppose it happened three years later when I had that much more experience? I can see how my whole life might have been different.'
'You might have stayed on the force.'
'It's possible, right? I don't know if I really liked being a cop or if I was any good at it. I liked the classes at the Academy. I liked wearing the uniform. I liked walking the beat and saying hello to people and having them say hello back. Actual police work, I don't know how much I liked it. Maybe if I was really cut out for it I wouldn't have been thrown for a loop by what I saw in that kitchen. Or I would have toughed it out and gotten over it eventually. You were a cop yourself and you quit, right?'
'For unspecified personal reasons.'
'Yeah, I guess there's a lot of that going around.'
'There was a death involved,' I said. 'A child. What happened, I lost my taste for the work.'
'Exactly what happened with me, Matt. I lost my taste for it. You know what I think? If it wasn't that one particular thing it would have been something else.'
Could I say the same thing? It was not a thought that had occurred to me previously. If Estrellita Rivera had been home in bed where she belonged, would I still be living in Syosset and carrying a badge? Or would some other incident have given me an inevitable nudge in a direction I had to walk?'
I said, 'You and your wife separated.'
'That's right.'
'Same time you put in your papers?'
'Not too long after that.'
'You move here right away?'
'I was in an S.R.O. hotel a couple blocks down on Broadway. I stayed there for maybe ten weeks until I found this place. Been here ever since.'
'Your wife's still in the East Village.'
'Huh?'
'St. Marks Place. She's still living there.'
'Oh. Right.'
'Any kids?'
'No.'
'Makes it easier.'
'I guess so.'
'My wife and sons are out on Long Island. I'm in a hotel on Fifty-seventh Street.'
He nodded, understanding. People move and their lives change.
He'd wound up guarding cashmere sweaters. I'd wound up doing whatever it is I do. Looking in a coal mine for a black cat, according to Antonelli. Looking for a cat that wasn't even there.
Chapter 10
When I got back to my hotel there was a message from Lynn London. I called her from the pay phone in the lobby and explained who I was and what I wanted.
She said, 'My father hired you? It's funny he didn't say anything to me. I thought they had the man who killed my sister. Why would he suddenly-well, let's let it ride for now. I don't know what help I could be.'
I said I'd like to meet with her to talk about her sister.
'Not tonight,' she said briskly. 'I just got back from the mountains a couple of hours ago. I'm exhausted and I've got to do my lesson plans for the week.'
'Tomorrow?'
'I teach during the day. I've got a dinner date and I'm going to a concert after that. Tuesday's my group
