'Unless it was true,' Susan said.
'And she were the stalker,' I said.
'She forms an obsessive attachment to Jimmy, because he's older and he's the head of her acting company, and she tends to form such attachments,' Susan said.
She was staring into the fire. Her wine glass was still nearly full in her hands. I knew she'd forgotten about it as she tracked her hypothesis.
'And he doesn't reciprocate. She assumes there's another woman, and trails him to see if there is.'
'And maybe,' I said, 'because it makes her feel good to trail him.'
'Yes.'
'And then I come along and, being entirely irresistible, as you well know, replace Christopholous in her affections.'
'And she tells you she's being followed so you'll pay attention to her.'
'If we're right,' I said, 'this is not a healthy woman.'
'No, she must be very unhappy.'
'So maybe I've got the stalker,' I said.
'Maybe. So who killed Craig?'
'I have no idea,' I said.
Susan leaned over and kissed me on the mouth.
'But you will,' she said.
'What's for supper?'
'Brunswick stew, French bread, tomato chutney,' I said.
'Shall we eat some?'
'That was part of my plan,' I said.
'What was the rest?'
'Well,' I said.
'If I can't help Jocelyn out.
Susan smiled at me.
'The last boy scout,' she said.
CHAPTER 33
We were in my office. Vinnie was listening to doo wop on his head phones, Hawk was still reading Cornel West, and I sat at my desk looking at Craig Sampson's FBI file. When I got through, I passed it over to Hawk. He dog- eared the page in his book and put it on the corner of my desk and took the file and read it. When he was through, he passed it back.
'Where you say the Chinese broad from?' Hawk said.
'Rikki Wu? Taipei Hawk nodded and picked up his book again. I sat and stared at the file folder. Vinnie was bobbing his head to the music only he could hear. Behind me the window rattled. I swiveled my chair and, for a change of pace, stared out the window for a while. It was bright outside, and very warm for November, but the wind was strong. Where I could see the sky between the buildings, it was a weak blue, and the off-white clouds were tattered-looking as they trailed east toward the harbor.
According to the file that Lee Farrell had dropped off, Craig Sampson would be forty-one were he still alive. He had enlisted in the army, in August of 1971, had basic training at Ft. Dix, gone to the army language school at Monterey, and spent a year and a half with a Military Assistance Group in Taiwan. He had the rank of Specialist 3rd class when he was honorably discharged in July 1974.
From somewhere I heard a siren. Police Headquarters was up Berkeley Street a couple of blocks, and beyond that, facing onto Columbus, was a fire station Sirens were the sound of the city; urban be-bop.
I swiveled my chair back around. Hawk looked up, dog-eared his book again, and put his feet up on the corner of my desk. His cowboy boots were gleaming with polish.
'Everywhere we look,' Hawk said, 'there's a goddamned Chinaman.'
'I don't think we're supposed to call them that,' I said.
'Okay, how 'bout 'a Asian gentleman.'
' 'I think you need to get the phrase 'Pacific Rim' in there somewhere,' I said.
'Lemme practice,' Hawk said, 'I know I can get it right.' ' 'Okay,' I said.
'For the moment, anyway, everywhere we look there's a goddamned Chinaman.'
'What we know is Rikki Wu from Taiwan. Craig Sampson stationed in Taiwan. Rikki Wu pretty surely bopping Craig Sampson. Rikki Wu's husband's Kwan Chang's man in Port City. He tell you to buzz off. You don't and various people from the Pacific Rim trying to blow your brains out. You know where Lonnie Wu is from?'
'No.'
'You figure maybe Craig been buzzing Rikki longer than we thought?'
