the hospital.' Foster's expression had turned opaque.
The ride home was as fitful as an insomniac's sleep. In thinking about the brazen attempt on his life and possibly on Kathy's, he was certain if the perp had seen him fall, he would have turned the gun on her. And since he botched the first shot, he panicked and ran. But David lingered on his error in assuming the red motorcycle belonged to Spritz. And what of the oily cardboard? A week ago, he might have become stalled in questions of his analytical skills-but not now; there was too much at stake, and, he sensed, too little time. Although he considered it a giant leap in deduction, the error also warned him against prioritizing his suspect list. It leveled its membership.
At 10 Oak Lane, as David crossed sheets of light that had dispersed from his oaks onto the driveway, he thanked the window lock for saving two lives. And he felt a greater resolve shaped by self-admonitions: keep digging, assume nothing, and work fast.
He noticed his storm door was not fully shut. He swung it open and stepped back to pick up a number 10 envelope which fell at his feet. It was addressed to INSPECTOR BROOKS. David scowled as he opened the envelope and unfolded a single sheet of paper. His scowl deepened as he read the uppercase typing:
INSPECTOR: NO DOUBT YOU KNOW OF GIFFORD'S AUTO WRECKING IN TOWN. EVER WATCH THEM CRUSH A CAR? ENDS UP NICE AND THIN LIKE A DIME. EVERYTHING IN IT, TOO. DON'T BECOME SCRAP METAL. GET OFF THE CASE NOW!!!!
David slapped the paper with the back of his hand and put it into his pocket.
Chapter 23
In the days before he had become embroiled in investigations of this intensity, David would have settled in for a Sunday afternoon football game before his television set. Instead, he sat in front of his computer, wolfing down a ham sandwich and uploading the events of the past twenty hours and some carefully thought-out embellishments to his tactical plan. It took only twenty minutes.
He contacted the hospital lab, obtained Marsha's home number and called her.
'Have you seen Bernie Bugles lately?' he asked. 'Sure, but he just left.'
'He was there?'
'He's been staying with me for a couple days, and he's thinking about giving up his Manhattan apartment.'
'How come? Doesn't he like Manhattan?'
'I'm not sure, but that's nothing new-he's pretty closemouthed about everything.'
'I see.' David tried not to make much of the information. Besides, he was more interested in the past few hours. 'But today, how about this morning and over the noon hour?'
'He was gone when I woke up.'
'When was that?'
'Ah-do I have to say? Ten o'clock. But it's Sunday, Dr. Brooks.'
David felt intrusive. 'And I'm sorry to bother you on a Sunday.'
'That's okay.'
'You don't mind the questions, then?'
'Don't be silly. I know you're doing your job. And I've got to tell you, Dr. Brooks, not many people liked Victor Spritz but he didn't deserve getting killed that way.'
David reminded himself of the 'keep digging' admonition. 'And so Bernie came back there and left again?'
'Yes, he stayed only a few minutes.'
'Where had he been?'
'I have no idea.'
'And where did he go? Did he say?'
'Yes. To Boston. He'll be there for two days of meetings with some delegations from the Far East. He wanted to arrive today so he'd be fresh at eight in the morning.'
David tingled with the sensation of becoming airborne. So he's occupied tomorrow. Hello, Manhattan! 'What exactly does he do, anyway?' he asked, gazing at a list of phone numbers he kept nearby.
'He's a medical equipment consultant.'
Still that, eh? 'One last thing, Marsh. He said before that he didn't own a motorcycle. Have you ever seen him riding one?'
He couldn't interpret the momentary silence. 'No, I can't say that I have,' she said, 'but he'd look real neat on one if he did.'
'By the way,' David said, 'Do you remember where the two of you were the night before last-that's Friday.'
'Me? Sure, right here. I was waiting for Bernie. He didn't show up till after eleven.'
'How did he seem?'
'Funny you should ask, Dr. Brooks-you must be psychic. He was agitated. Very agitated.'
'Do you know why?'
'No, and I didn't ask. He always screams at me if I `meddle in his affairs,' as he calls it. '
After praising Marsha's cooperation, David hung up the phone and punched in Musco Diller's number in one swift motion.
'Musco, old buddy! Listen, Monday mornings are probably busy for you but any chance of your getting away for a few hours tomorrow?'
Musco's response was not immediate and David had a fleeting inclination to curse to himself. Finally, he heard, 'Ain't no job takes me that long.'
'It does if it's in New York City.' They agreed to meet outside the Red Checker Cab Company at nine and after hanging up, David resolved the call to Kathy would be the last one of the day. 'Are you okay?' he began.
'Yes, I'm fine. Where are you?'
'Home.' He capsulized his encounter with the Fosters and his conversation with Marsha as if they were a mere preamble to his next question. 'Are you packing hardware?'
'David,' she said, 'that wouldn't have helped at all if the perp were a better shot. About as helpful, I'd say, as wearing a badge around the condo. But, yes, I'm okay, and yes, I'll wear the gun. At least until Mr. Wackado's caught.'
'Good. And when you arrange to have the windows fixed-call Carl's Carpentry, they'll do it-arrange for some curtains that you can't see through and that cover the whole window.'
'Oh, sure, why not just board them up real tight?' This time, it was David who initiated a phone silence. He broke it with, 'I should have hugged you, Kath.' 'What? What are you talking about?'
'Back at the kitchen. That bullet whizzed by our ears. He could have killed us both, you know. When he didn't, I should have hugged you.'
In the course of informing her about Musco's willingness to accompany him to Manhattan in the morning, he interrupted himself. 'Damn!' he said, snapping his fingers.
'What's the matter?'
'I should have made it for today. I could have asked Musco to go with me now. Why not? Bernie's not around.'
'David, wait till tomorrow.'
'But this is a perfect opportunity … '
'So's tomorrow. It can wait till then.'
'I don't think so. I'm calling him back.'
'Will you do me a favor? Don't do anything for ten minutes.'
'What do you mean, don't do anything for ten minutes?'
