'Spritzy gave it to me. He told me to shoot you with it, but you were looking at me.'
'I see. And where did you keep the motorcycle?'
'In my Dodge Caravan.' He spoke like a child.
David reached further. 'And you say that Victor Spritz killed your father. How do you know that?'
'Bernie told me. And Spritzy killed those doctors, too.'
'Do you remember that one of the doctors was killed with a dagger?'
'Yep.'
'Where did the dagger come from? Do you know?'
'That was Bernie's. Well, not really. It was Spritzy's. He had two of 'em and gave one to Bernie.'
David was sure of the answer to the next question. 'I suppose that was you who fired the shot at Detective Dupre and me?'
'I'm sorry I did, Dr. Brooks. I'm sorry now.'
Chapter 30
The air had chilled during the night. In the morning, David noticed the single birch outside police headquarters was not as white as the thin snow cover.
He ambled into Kathy's barren office. It was nine-fifteen. She stood near a makeshift serving table, fixing coffee.
'You want some?' she said, her voice husky. He nodded.
'Who wrote up the report last night?' he asked.
'I did. Robert would still be talking if I hadn't started turning my lights out.'
'When was that?'
'Oh, about three.'
'When did you get here this morning?'
'Seven-thirty. I overslept. And when I arrived, the parking lot was crawling with media. Nick went out and had a nice little press conference right on the front steps. He gave you all the credit.'
He looked at her solemnly. 'How many coffees have you had?'
'Three. Did you know that Robert once helped coordinate drug shipments to Florida?'
'Robert?'
'Yes. And I'd have to say, David-the longer he talked, the more I realized he's no dummy. His father knew that.'
'What do you mean?'
'Read the report.' Kathy carried two coffees to her desk, sat and pulled a folder from the top drawer. She handed it to David who leafed through several of its pages.
'Here,' she said, getting up, 'park yourself here, and take your time. I just remembered. I'll be in Nick's office checking on what's happening with Bernie in New Jersey.' She gulped down her coffee, waited for David to sit, kissed his forehead and left.
He scanned the report and was impressed with its question and answer layout, an easy read. His sleep had been shallow and, despite his closeness to the case, he would have been in no mood yet to suffer through the usual soporific narrative. He parodied an archetypical beginning: 'The alleged perpetrator took a swing at the alleged victim-blah-blah-blah-blah.'
David read that Charlie Bugles was the kingpin of an international narcotics ring with cohorts in Istanbul, Tokyo and Cartagena. Spritz and Bernie were lesser but equal cogs in the operation and shuttled between the United States and foreign drug territories in South America, Europe and the Far East. But Spritz had become 'too damn greedy' and 'Dad wanted to cut him out and have me take his place. He changed his sources in Istanbul and gave me the list. So Spritzy cracks my safe and steals the names.'
David spilled a drop of his coffee, whisking aside the report as if it were the Magna Carta. He skipped ahead.
'Question: Why did you kill Victor Spritz?'
'Answer: Because he butchered my Dad. Because he stole the secrets in my safe. Because he called me stupid.'
'Question: What exactly took place Friday night, January 23rd?'
'Answer: Spritzy called me and said he wanted to show me some new drugs at his office. He wanted to kill me, you know. But I wanted to kill him, too. With karate. I drove my motorcycle there because I didn't want anybody to see my Dodge. I got there early, I guess. He wasn't there and the back door was open. I looked outside and saw the light in the ambulance. I went in and Spritzy pulls a gun, but I was too fast for him and I choked his neck. Then I picked up the gun and shot him good.'
'Question: Then what did you do?'
'Answer: I got scared and ran home. I took the gun with me and sneaked back for my Honda later on.'
Kathy came into the room and David closed the folder and swept it to the side.
'Well?' she said. She perched on the corner of the desk.
'Well, I'm glad it's over,' he replied, grunting as he rose from the chair. 'My knee's sore, my back's sore, and my brain's sore.' He moved stiffly to the service table to return his coffee cup.
'You'll be happy to hear,' Kathy said, 'the hospital's gearing up again.'
'How do you know?'
'Just before you got here, Foster called to congratulate us. So did Dr. Corliss. Foster said he might throw a celebration party at his home.'
'Oh, wonderful,' David said, yawning. 'And what's with Bernie?'
'They located him in Teaneck. He didn't resist. In fact, he waived extradition and should be here before the morning's over. We'll charge him as an accessory because of the dagger. Then we'll turn him over to the feds on the drug thing. Are you going to Spritz's funeral?'
David gave her a frosty look. 'No way,' he said.
'Good, hang around for Bernie. We'll see what he says.'
'Nah, that's a no-brainer. He'll deny everything: the lovely scrap metal letter, the Asian goons with their stupid barbed wire, ransacking my place last week.' David massaged his decision scar before adding in a softer tone, 'Even that he believed I was onto his drug operation.'
He walked over to Kathy, lifted her to her feet and folded her hands in his. 'But will you do me a favor,' he said. His voice was firmer.
'What's that?'
'Tell him thanks for not breaking any of my stuff.'
'Amen. And what are you doing today with nothing more to chase?'
'That's easy. First, I call Belle to see if she can whip together some house calls for this afternoon. Then, I go home and put my guns to bed. Maybe even myself for an hour or two. Care to join me?'
