'Are you sure?'
'Sure,' said Thomas, 'almost to the minute.'
'Why?' -The night janitor at my office building. Kind of a cantankerous old character. He wanted to know exactly when I'd be going out the door or when I'd be there. He had the fire department there. I guess he wanted to know.'
'So you think you left at three forty-five?' asked Hearn casually.
Shassad was making notes.
'I know I did.'
'But you didn't see anything in front of the building?' asked Shassad.
According to Minnie Yankovich, two men had been lurking there for half an hour.
'No' said Thomas.
'But I wouldn't have. I left by the back exit. It comes out on the avenue.'
'Why'd you do that?'
'I was going to my car on Seventy-fourth Street. It's a shortcut.'
'And you heard nothing?'
Thomas started to say no. But then he stopped in mid-sentence.
'Come to think of it. he began, having dismissed the incident in the travail of that particular night.
'Yes?'
'I heard someone come out of the apartment below me. Three c 'A man or a woman?'
'I couldn't tell. I heard the voices of each. And frankly, I had other things on my mind. Hell, my office-' 'Did one of them go downstairs?'
Thomas I thought.
'Yes. There were footsteps. I waited till they were gone.' He eyed both cops.
'You know how it is. Middle of the night. You avoid strangers on staircases.'
'Of course,' nodded Hearn sympathetically.
'You never saw him? Or her?' pressed Shassad.
'No,' answered Daniels flatly.
'Did you think it unusual that someone would be leaving that apartment at that hour?'
Thomas shrugged.
'No he said.
'What's the nice way to put it?
She has a lot of male visitors.'
'Oh, I see,' said Hearn.
'She's popular, in other words.'
'You could call it that.'
'Do you know her very well yourself?' asked Shassad.
'No,' said Thomas tersely.
'Nor do I want to.'
The interview finished amiably several minutes later. Hearn politely walked Thomas downstairs to the main entrance of the station house.
Then Hearn rejoined his partner upstairs.
'What did you think?' Hearn asked.
'Intriguing, that one-,' said Shassad.
'He's either lying or he actually heard the victim walking downstairs prior to getting carved.'
'Not only that'' noted Hearn, 'but he practically put himself at the crime scene at the minute the stabbing took place. Think he was telling the truth?'
'Some of the truth' said Shassad.
'I already know a little about him from others in the building. Know who his father was? William Ward Daniels.'
'The shyster mouthpiece?' Hearn, like his partner, had little love for those who returned felons intact to the street.
'The same,' said Shassad.
'That doesn't speak too well for the integrity running through the family. And do you know what else?'
Hearn asked what.
'Our friend Daniels has a girl who spends nights there. Some girl who works for a paper or something. No big deal, except maybe she was there that night with Ryder, not expecting Daniels to come home. Daniels shows up unexpectedly and drives Ryder out, out into the hands of two goons he has waiting for him ' 'In other words, Daniels sets up Ryder to be killed. And Daniels's girl is the girl Ryder was screwing' 'Well,' shrugged Shassad, 'it may be farfetched, but it's a workable theory. And Christ knows, the son of William Ward Daniels would probably know every kind of goon in the city-, 'So?' asked Hearn.
'We watch Daniels?' The question was rhetorical. He nodded in thought.
'We've got no one else to watch yet. Maybe he'll lead us to his girl.
Then we might get something out of her.' Shassad smiled faintly Chapter 9 Thomas arrived at Madison Square Garden at seven fifteen, fifteen minutes before game time, walked quickly among the scalpers and loitering boisterous teenagers on Seventh Avenue, and was in his seat by seven twenty.
She wasn't there yet. The seat next to his was empty On the ice there were no players. The goals were being adjusted and the ice was being smoothed. He watched the minutes tick off on the electronic clocks at each end of the rink. Seven twenty-eight. Seven thirty. He wondered whether she'd be there.
The teams began to skate out onto the ice. The crowd roared.
There was an inattentive hum as the recorded voice of Robert Merrill sang America the Beautiful.
Thomas was still looking around, more nervously now.
As the referee dropped the puck all eyes went to the ice. Thomas glanced down to the game as the puck was shot into the Rangers'end.
Then he was aware of people standing to one side of him, allowing someone to enter the row. He turned his head quickly. Leslie.
She stepped past him and sat down.
'Welcome,' he said.
'Thanks.' She was slightly out of breath, still wearing her heavy overcoat. She quickly unbuttoned the front buttons. He raised his hand to help her with the coat. She motioned his hand away.
'You haven't missed anything,' he offered.
She motioned indignantly toward the ice, toward the Ranger end.
'They were damned fools to trade Ratelle and Park' she said.
'I didn't know you liked hockey.'
'I don't. I hate it?'
'Then… 'We're here because it would be difficult to follow me,' she said.
'I bought the tickets from a scalper a week ago. If anyone followed me or you here, I'd hope the difficulty posed by the ticket takers would cause him, or them, to lose me.'
'Clever,' he allowed.
There was a roar as a Ranger shot hit a goalpost and flew back in front of the net. A rebound shot was deflected by the goaltender's stick and a third shot flew wide by a foot. The crowd was howling and Thomas turned to watch the play.
She spoke loudly, to be heard.
'I didn't come here to watch grown men play a boys' game. What about the will?'
The puck flew out of bounds. Play stopped. The crowd quieted.
He looked her in the eye.
'I don't have it,' he admitted.
'Not yet' She stared at him coldly.
'Why?'
He thought quickly
