'Danny Boy wasn't wearing a zoot suit.'
'No, it was an associate of his named— well, it doesn't matter what his name was. He was also wearing a straw hat with a shocking-pink band. Now if I'd worn something like that to Durkin's office—'
'He would have been impressed. Maybe it's something in your stance, honey, maybe it's an attitude thing that Durkin's picking up on.
You're wearing your clothes with more authority.'
'Because my heart is pure.'
'That must be it.'
We kibitzed a little more. She had a class that night and we talked about getting together afterward but decided against it. 'Tomorrow's better,' she said. 'Maybe a movie? Except I hate to go on the weekend, everything decent is mobbed. I know, maybe an afternoon movie and dinner after it, assuming you're not working.' I told her that sounded good.
I hung up and the man on the desk rang to say I'd had a call while I was on the phone with Elaine.
They've changed the phone system a few times since I've been at the Northwestern. Originally all calls had to go through the switchboard.
Then they fixed it so you could dial out directly, but incoming calls were still routed through the board. Now I have a direct line for making or receiving calls, but if I don't pick up after four rings it gets transferred downstairs. I get my own bill from NYNEX, the hotel doesn't impose any charges, and I come out of it with a free answering service.
The call was from Durkin, and I rang him back. 'You left something here,' he said. 'You want to pick it up or should I toss it?'
I said I'd be right over.
He was on the phone when I got to the squad room. He had his chair tilted back and he was smoking a cigarette while another one burned up in the ashtray. At the desk next to his, a detective named Bellamy was peering over the tops of his eyeglasses at the screen of his computer.
Joe covered the mouthpiece of the phone and said, 'I think that's your envelope there, it's got your name on it. You left it when you were here earlier.'
Without waiting for a reply he went back to his conversation. I reached over his shoulder and picked up a nine- by-twelve manila clasp envelope with my name on it. Behind me, Bellamy told the computer,
'Well, that makes no fucking sense at all.'
I didn't argue the point.
Chapter 6
Back in my room I spread a sheaf of curling fax copies on my bed.
They had evidently faxed the whole file, thirty-six pages of it. Some of them only had a few lines on them, but others were densely packed with information.
Shuffling through them, it struck me what a different proposition all this would have been in my own cop days. We didn't have copying machines, let alone fax. The only way to see Marie Gotteskind's file would have required traipsing out to Queens and going through it on the spot, with some anxious cop looking over your shoulder and trying to hurry you along.
Nowadays you just fed everything into a fax transmitter and it came out by sheer magic five or ten miles away— or on the other side of the world, for that matter. The original file never left the office where it was kept, and no unauthorized person snuck in for a peek at it, so nobody had to get uptight about a breach in security.
And I had all the time I needed to pore over the Gottes-kind file.
It's just as well I did because I had no clear idea what I was looking for. One thing that hasn't changed a bit since I got out of the Police Academy is the amount of paperwork the job entails. Whatever kind of cop you are, you spend less time doing things than you do establishing a record on paper of what you've done. Some of this is the usual bureaucratic horseshit and some comes under the general heading of covering your ass, but much of it is probably inescapable. Police work is a collective effort, with a variety of people contributing to even the simpler sort of investigation, and if it's not all written down somewhere nobody can get an overview of it and figure out what it amounts to.
I read everything, and when I got to the end I went back and pulled a few pieces of paper for a second look. One thing that became evident early on was the extraordinary similarity between the Gotteskind abduction and the way Francine Khoury was taken in Brooklyn. I noted the following points of similarity: 1. Both women were abducted from commercial streets.
2. Both women had parked cars nearby and were shopping on foot.
3. Both were seized by a pair of men.
4. In both instances, the men were described as being similar in height and weight, and were dressed alike. The Gotteskind kidnappers had worn khaki trousers and navy windbreakers.
5. Both women were carried off in trucks. The truck used in Woodhaven was described by several witnesses as a light blue van. One witness identified it specifically as a Ford, and supplied a partial plate number, but it hadn't led anywhere.
6. Several witnesses agreed that the body of the truck was lettered with the name of a household appliance firm. They variously identified the firm as P J Home Appliance, B & J Household Appliance, and variations on the foregoing. A second line read sales and service. There was no address, but witnesses reported that there was a phone number, although no one could supply it. A thorough investigation had failed to link the truck to any of the innumerable companies in the borough that sold and serviced home appliances, and the conclusion seemed warranted that the firm's name, like the plate number, was spurious.
