Hocus

Visions of infections and fevers and insane medical experiments tumbled through my mind, while the silence stretched. Cassidy had warned me not to be afraid of those silences, but I had not anticipated the course my imagination would take while we waited.

Yet it was Cassidy who broke this silence as he drawled, “You a medical man, Samuel?”

“You’ve probably already got a whole team of people working on my history and credentials,” Samuel said, “so let’s not waste Detective Harriman’s time. I’ve been on this call far too long. Bret will be quite upset with me. Everything else you need to know is waiting at a copy shop near Cal State Bakersfield.” He gave an address on Stockdale Highway, then added, “It’s a twenty-four-hour place. Ask for your fax and mail.”

“Can you give us directions, Samuel?” Cassidy asked. “Irene hasn’t been here for a while, and she’s already managed to get us lost twice.”

“Not my problem. You found your way eventually, didn’t you?” he said. “Now, on to business. The reports in the Californian are fairly accurate. Wrong in a few places, though. For example, you know that a young officer — our very own Officer Harriman — rescued us from a warehouse. Now here’s the problem: How did Officer Harriman know to go to that particular warehouse?”

“I’m not sure I understand, Samuel,” Cassidy said.

“Who told Officer Harriman to go to the warehouse?”

“A dispatcher,” I answered.

“Yes, but who told the dispatcher about the warehouse?”

“According to the article, an anonymous tipster,” I said.

“Ah! That’s where the article is wrong. Not the fault of the reporter. That’s what the dispatcher told him.”

“You believe the dispatcher lied?”

“Maybe. But I think it’s far more likely that she knew — well, knew but didn’t know — the caller.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, “I don’t understand.”

Silence.

“Knew but didn’t know,” I finally repeated. “Didn’t recognize the voice?”

“Exactly.”

“Whose voice was it?” Cassidy asked.

“More fun if you guess,” Samuel said.

Don’t make this into a game! I wanted to shout, but Cassidy simply said, “All right. Was it a relative?”

“No.”

“Someone she worked with,” I said, trying to follow Cassidy’s lead.

“Getting warmer,” Samuel enthused.

“A cop,” I guessed.

“Yes! I knew you could do this job, Irene.”

“This job?”

“You’ll have until Tuesday.”

“I’ll have until Tuesday to do what?”

“Why, to find that cop.”

“Which cop? What’s his name?” I asked, feeling panic closing in.

“Irene, if we knew that, we wouldn’t have needed to go to so much bother. That’s why we need you.”

“You know the caller was a cop?”

“I’m certain of it.”

“What do you mean? How can you be certain?”

Cassidy pushed a note toward me: “Slow down.”

“We were there, remember?” Samuel said. “But that isn’t much of an explanation, is it? No, you’ll need more details if you’re going to give us his name by Tuesday. Well, read the fax. Now, this really has gone on too long.”

“Wait! Why Tuesday?”

“No special reason,” he said. “But we can’t be expected to take care of Detective Harriman forever.”

“You’ve started all of this over a weekend,” Cassidy said, his tone of voice much more level than mine. “Of course that presents some difficulties.”

“Nothing insurmountable.”

“Folks go out of town on weekends. Offices are closed. And this all goes back a ways.”

“Years,” Samuel said bitterly.

“Yes. You’ve waited a long time to learn this officer’s identity. What difference would a few more days make?”