'He wrote me a letter,' Quirk said. He took an envelope out of his inside coat pocket and held it toward me. It was a plain white envelope, the kind they sell in every drugstore. In typescript, it was addressed to Martin Quirk at Quirk's home. There was no return address.
I opened it. The paper inside was as nondescript as the envelope. In the same typescript the letter said:
Quirk, I killed that hooker and the waitress. You better catch me. I may do it again and I'm a cop.
I looked at the envelope again. It was postmarked in Boston three days ago.
'He knows your home address,' I said.
'It's in the book,' Quirk said.
'Still, he went to the trouble,' I said. 'He wants you to know he knows your home address.'
'Yeah.'
'When did you get the letter?' I said.
'After the second killing.'
Belson ran a red light at Brookline Avenue and crossed onto the Riverway.
'Could be any cop,' I said.
'That's right.'
'Could be one of the forensic guys back there now.'
'That's right.'
'Could be a civilian that wants to confuse the issue.'
'That's right.'
'Makes it so you can't trust anyone,' I said.
'Hardly anyone,' Quirk said.
'Except maybe Belson,' I said.
Quirk nodded. I smiled at him. Just a big friendly puppy. Quirk looked at me without saying anything. Belson's cigar smelled like someone was cooking a rat.
I said, 'Lieutenant, I owe you some things.'
Quirk still looked at me without speaking.
'So I figure I'll help you out on this one.'
Quirk nodded. 'Yeah,' he said. 'If you want to.'
Belson came to Brookline Avenue again and turned right.
'You get full access,' Quirk said. 'Anything you find out you tell only me or Belson.'
'What do you know so far?' I said.
'Three women, all black, all killed the same way, just like you saw. No evidence of sexual assault. Semen traces in the area each time. Same kind of cord used to tie them, same kind of gray duct tape used to gag them. We don't have the bullet yet on this one, but the first two were both shot with a thirty-eight.'
'They have anything in common besides black and female?'
'Maybe,' Quirk said. 'One was a hooker, one was a cocktail waitress at a joint in the Zone.'
'How about this one?'
'Don't know yet. Mailman saw her through the front window and called in. Her name was Dolores Taylor.'
'Still is,' I said.
'I guess so,' Quirk said.
'How official am I?' I said.
'You're doing me a favor,' Quirk said. 'Anyone doesn't cooperate, let me know.'
'How about the press?' I said.
'Can't keep it secret,' Quirk said. 'They'll spot you. They're on this like a dog at a trash can.'
'The slime sheets showed up yet? You're not big time unless you get coverage from the national litter box
Quirk smiled with no hint of humor. 'They're here. Try to stay upwind of them.'
'Anyone on this but you and me and Belson?'
'Official investigation proceeds, maybe we'll break it that way. But I got no way to know if the killer's involved on our side. I want somebody outside the department, that I know didn't do it.'
'That's the kindest thing you've ever said to me,' I said.
Belson stopped for a light near Children's Hospital. The light changed, and we went past Children's Hospital and turned onto the Jamaicaway.
Quirk said, 'Besides what I've told you we don't have anything. No other physical evidence. We'll have a lab
