it to Palmer Stone, she was sure he'd understand. If only he'd take the time to listen and think about it.
She sat back down, got back up, paced some more.
Without recalling how she got there, she found herself in the kitchen. She opened the freezer door of the refrigerator and got out the bottle of vodka she kept there. It was only half empty. It wasn't what she needed, but it would help. For a while, anyway.
She removed the cap from the bottle and let some of the cold vodka slide down her throat. The alcohol content kept the vodka from quite freezing, increasing its viscosity without lessening its effect. It would help her to stave off the need and agony.
Buying time. That's what she was doing, buying time and passing time and going mad.
The time she was buying was worth less by the minute.
She picked up the remote and switched on the TV. The news was on, some hick sheriff's deputy or something from someplace down South being interviewed by a woman in a tight sweater and bad hairdo. The volume was too low to hear, but the crawl across the bottom of the screen said the alleged Torso Killer, Tom Coulter, had been spotted and almost caught in Louisiana.
Maria laughed. It sounded slightly maniacal even to her. She switched off the TV and tossed the remote over on the couch.
Crazy world! Crazy!
She walked from room to room, carrying the bottle, tracking the same path of her despair along worn carpet and sagging wood floor.
Maybe Stone wouldn't understand. Or care. He was a lot of talk, Palmer Stone. A lot of bullshit.
She knew Stone's type all too well. She couldn't count on him, and she didn't have to. The only person she could count on in this insane and unfair world was herself. She had to make a connection somehow, and soon.
Soon, God, soon!
She wanted to sit down but couldn't. Something in her wouldn't allow it.
All the trouble in the world…
They were in the office on West Seventy-ninth Street. The window air conditioner was noisy and fickle, being ornery. Right now it was too warm in the office. Pearl, in an uncharacteristic burst of domesticity, had gotten them all coffee and delivered the cups to the desks on round cork coasters she'd found somewhere. The coasters featured ads for some kind of ale Quinn had never heard of. In the warmth created by the malfunctioning air conditioner, neither Quinn nor Fedderman really wanted the steaming coffee, but they took sips from time to time so Pearl wouldn't get mad.
'The new Madeline must have E-Bliss spooked,' Quinn said. 'They had the initial problem when the real Madeline Scott somehow escaped when they tried to kill her. Then the new Madeline must have picked up on something from when Pearl spotted her in the elevator, so they moved her out of the building. Thanks to Pearl-' he glanced toward where she was perched on the front edge of her desk-'we know where she's living now.'
'And we know she needs coke,' Fedderman said.
'We'll keep a watch on her,' Quinn said. 'Except for Pearl, whom she's already seen. When the time comes, the new Madeline will make a hell of a witness for the prosecution.'
'We've got leverage on her,' Fedderman said. 'Major drug rap. She'll cut a deal and cooperate.'
'If they don't kill her,' Pearl said.
She understood why she wouldn't be included in the watch on the new Madeline. Not only would she be a familiar face, but she'd be too busy elsewhere playing Jewel and looking after Jill Clark. And she could still feel Greeve following her, even though there was no sign of him. He wasn't nicknamed 'The Ghost' for nothing. If he didn't know about the new Madeline, there was no point in leading him to her.
'We'll watch her partly to protect her,' Quinn said, 'and partly to see where she goes. Apparently she's still in contact with E-Bliss from time to time.'
'We looking at her as bait?' Pearl asked. She knew it would be a coup to nail Tony Lake, or Vlad, or whatever name he was using, or maybe even Palmer Stone, in the act of trying to kill the new Madeline. And they might feel she had to be killed if they found out she was into drugs and vulnerable. She had to be a danger to them.
'We'll play this close,' Quinn said. 'Renz will give us some undercover help we can trust not to leak anything. And I'll bring in Nancy Weaver to fill in for Pearl. We've used Weaver before. She's good, and we can trust her, especially if there's a possibility of promotion in it for her. Between us, we'll keep a close tail on the new Madeline.'
'Starting when?' Fedderman asked.
'Renz has already got an undercover outside her apartment. One of us will relieve him this evening. Word is, she stays cooped up, keeps the blinds closed.'
'Scared,' Fedderman said. 'That's good.'
'What's left of her stash might be running out,' Quinn said.
'Also good.'
'But pure hell for her.'
'She took the elevator down,' Fedderman said. 'Far as we know, nobody forced her to get in.'
'Meanwhile, let's go over the murder book on Ruth Malpass,' Quinn said. 'See if between us we can spot something useful, especially if it makes a closer connection to E-Bliss.'
'Weaver?' Pearl said. 'Weaver filling in for me?'
It wasn't out of the blue. Quinn had been expecting it.
'Weaver,' he confirmed. He tried to use a tone of voice that would discourage Pearl from making a drama out of it.
Pearl wasn't crazy about seeing Officer Nancy Weaver brought in on the case. The two women didn't like each other, maybe because similarity bred contempt. And competition. Weaver and Pearl shared the same relentless approach to their work, as well as the same tendency to raise hackles. Weaver didn't have Pearl's short fuse, though. Quinn had to give her that.
'Weaver's back in uniform,' Pearl said. 'Got some shit-hole assignment over in Brooklyn. She got caught fooling around with a married lieutenant on the vice squad.'
'Seems the place to do it,' Fedderman said. 'What the vice squad's all about.'
Quinn wished Fedderman would take it easy. There was no point in detonating Pearl.
'That woman put the 'cop' in copulate,' Pearl said.
'But she's good at what she does,' Fedderman said. 'Being a cop, I mean.' He tried but failed to take a sip of his searingly hot coffee. 'Almost at the boiling point,' he said, looking at Pearl and not his coffee.
'All Weaver wants is to be promoted,' Pearl said.
'I want her promoted, too,' Quinn said, 'if it's for helping us break this case. Weaver's got her flaws, but she's also smart and resourceful. Renz will put her back in plain clothes for this, and she'll work herself to the nub to stay there.'
Pearl made a sniffing sound. 'It's hard for Weaver to stay in any kind of clothes.'
Fedderman gave her a pained look. 'Give the woman a break, Pearl.'
'Just don't give her any trouble,' Quinn said in the voice he used to warn people. No mistaking it. Like God laying down the law from on high.
'You know me,' Pearl said.
53
Some ringing phones are better left unanswered.
Victor had been alone in the offices of E-Bliss.org and fielded Maria Sanchez's phone call.
He was still pale and obviously angry when Palmer Stone walked in wearing one of his Armani suits and carrying his Hansom and Coach leather briefcase. Palmer was also wearing his usual handsome and benign expression, that of the kind sitcom father who'd never once raised hand nor voice to his make-believe wife and children.
'Something the matter, Victor?' he asked, with a concerned frown, as he set the briefcase alongside his desk
