'What?'
'Nothing' said Shassad.
'If you want to book me on a weapons charge, go ahead' said Daniels.
'I'll have bail posted before you can get back to your car.'
Shassad grabbed the knife angrily.
'Fuck it!' he spat violently. He stormed out of the room and didn't return.
Hearn was expressionless as he sat in silence across the table. He made a final attempt at his role of arbitrator.
'Hey, look:'he said at length, 'why won't you cooperate with us? My partner there's under a lot of stress. Can't you give us a break?'
'How can I?'
'You must know where she is. How about if you bring her in, let her talk to us. You can be here. If she's innocent, if she was in trouble, well listen. She must have had a reason to have been there' '
'I don't know a damned thing about it' said Thomas.
'What else can I say? That's the gospel ' 'I'm sure,' intoned Hearn blankly.
Thomas looked at the detective, a man who was as tired and disgusted with his job as Daniels was. He felt a strange affinity toward the man, then wondered absently how many hundreds of times his father had been in similar situations, hauled into police stations to spend the night lying to the local constabularies. Thomas felt diminished in his own opinion of himself. He'd never been in this situation before. Yet having arrived, he found it easy to… well, to lie.
He glanced at his watch. Two ten. Hearn was watching him.
Shassad reappeared, nasty as ever.
'Go home,' said the detective.
Thomas looked at him.
'What?'
'You don't understand English now? I said go home. Patty,' he said, turning to Hearn, 'tell him in Gaelic or something. Tell him to get his ass out of here. It's my good deed for the day. Plus I don't want to go to night court' Thomas looked with puzzlement and a touch of suspicion to Hearn. Hearn shrugged as Shassad departed.
'The knife, we keep' said Hearn.
'You can go, but you'll have to stick to soft foods for a while.'
'I own another knife,' Thomas offered.
'Try leaving it in your kitchen,' suggested Hearn.
'Go on. Get out of here. You'll hear from us again' It was two thirty when Thomas walked out the doors of the precinct house. He was painfully tired and the first steps he took were in the direction of his apartment.
But then he stopped. Leslie's warning had been clear enough.
Were the police the people he was to have avoided? Or were there others? He glanced at his watch again and conceded that one more hour, killed at the end of a quiet bar, might not be so painful.
He marked an hour at a Second Avenue bar. Then he exited the bar at three thirty and began walking toward Fifth Avenue and the park. The streets were reasonably quiet as he walked cross town.
Twice, then a third time, he looked behind him. Always there was someone, al› out a block and a half away. He was at Seventy-third Street and Park Avenue when it dawned on him. He hadn't been released through goodness, kindness, or even chance.
The detectives had seen him glancing at his watch. Figuring he was concerned about the time for a reason, they'd decided to let him lead them to Leslie. They were following him. Thomas had no idea how many there were. But he knew, since two deaths were already involved, there had to be several.
He continued to walk uptown, stepping up his pace. He had twenty minutes to elude an entire squad of experienced detectives and get to the park. And with so few people on the street, he was that much easier to tail. If only he had Leslie's Experience, he thought.
Leslie's experience? Of course!
He led the pursuers farther northward, then toward Madison Avenue. Then he cut back toward Lexington, as if hoping to have thrown them. He led them to Seventy-eighth and Lexington where, halfway down the block, he saw the sign he wanted.
READER AND ADVISER, MADAME DIANE. It was almost four A.M. but Madame Diane's lights were still on and her door was still open.
The early-morning hours were ideal for those disturbed souls needing tea readings and advice.
Thomas walked halfway down the block, then quickly cut into the gypsy's street-level door. He darted up the steps and through the corridor, receiving a surprised look from the Madame herself, who stepped into the hall and shouted at him.
Then he heard footsteps on the stairs where he'd entered. His pursuers. Thomas was down one of the back stairways and out into an alley moments later, just as Madame Diane was asking the detectives if she could help them. No, she hadn't seen anyone, she told them, but if they cared to brew some tea, maybe…
At the end of the alley, Thomas climbed over some abandoned wooden crates and over an iron gate which was closed at night. He jumped from the top of the gate onto the sidewalk, nearly skidding on an icy patch.
But when he looked around, no one was anywhere in sight. He ran northward two blocks, then started in a half run toward Central Park.
It was already ten past four. He hoped she'd still be waiting.
Against every bit of good judgment he had, he wanted her to be there.
He entered the park at East Eighty-first Street. He walked north- ward toward their chosen rendezvous point. He would have liked to walk slowly and cautiously, not knowing what else might be lurking in the shadows on even the coldest of nights. But he was already late.
He neared his destination, the rock formation which was shrouded with shadows a few hundred feet from the Great Lawn.
An ideal place for a covert meeting, yes. Equally serviceable for a murder. He imagined the headlines the next day.
'MAN ESCAPES POLICE SURVEILLANCE, KILLED IN PARK
'Would they say that a mugger had done it? (Like Mark Ryder?) Or would the mystery woman be suspected?
Was he crazy? he wondered. Would his father have come here?
Maybe he should have let the police follow him? Or had they anyway?
No, he'd definitely lost them. Definitely.
He neared the rock formation and squinted through the darkness.
There was no sound, no movement. All he could see before him was his own breath, a ghostly cloud each time he exhaled. He tried to allow his eyes to accustom themselves to the dimness.
He was staring straight at the rocks. Gradually they took shape through the shadows. He took a step closer and continued to stare.
His eyes focused and he felt his heart jump for an instant.
A human form. Dead? Alive? Male? Female? He took a step closer.
'Tom?'
He nearly jumped at the soft intonation of the voice-it was asif it called in hushed tones from a cemetery. But he recognized it.
'Leslie,' he said.
'Thank God.'
'Are you all right?' she asked, implying that there'd be some surprise if he weren't.
'Yeah. Fine. I've had a day, let me tell you,' he said.
'I have, too.' ,I'm not surprised' he said.
There was a pause. He stepped closer to her, standing just a few feet away now. She stepped to him and gave him an affectionate kiss.
He said nothing, not knowing where to begin. She sensed his unease immediately.
'Something is wrong' she said.
