different directions at once. Manfred Mueller is willing to kill as many of Holloman’s illustrious citizens as he can, and lay down his own life in the process. His price? Ten million dollars in a Swiss bank account in his wife’s name. I have done it. But Stravinsky says it will not answer, and I very much fear that Stravinsky is right.”
Interesting, thought Carmine. He said something like that to my face. About losing his luck because mine is stronger.
That was the last entry in the fifth book. Tired and sick, Carmine gathered his evidence together and put it in an old box he marked
ODDMENTS-1967. Then he took it to the cage and saw it put among a dozen other equally grimy boxes. Even if the faithful Stravinsky donned the uniform of a Holloman cop and came asking, he would not get it.
Stravinsky… A code name, it had to be a code name. The exercise books had given absolutely no hint as to who Stravinsky was. The music? No, surely not! Any bets Stravinsky is Stravinsky because Stravinsky picked the name? Or the KGB bosses? He’s like Smith, KGB. And here I thought Desdemona had seen him when Erica’s body was dumped. Now I learn that the sniper dumped the body. Smith always spoke of Stravinsky as an almost-equal, as someone whose opinion he respected. Stravinsky was treasured, valued too much to confide his identity to the pages of these diaries of murder.
“I always feel let down at the end of a difficult case,” Carmine said to Desdemona that evening. “As usual, the end of it depends on the courts-anticlimactic, not high drama. Smith can’t escape conviction, but I strongly suspect Pauline Denbigh will, and as for Stravinsky, he won’t even be identified.”
“You don’t think he might be Purvey or Collins?” she asked.
“No, that feels wrong. This is master and apprentice, not a hierarchy.”
“What will happen to Cornucopia?”
“There’s only one hand strong enough to take the helm, and it belongs to Wal Grierson, who won’t like it one little bit. His heart’s at Dormus with the turbines, not spread across thirty different companies.” Carmine shrugged. “Still, he’ll do his duty-pray note that I do not include the word ‘patriotic’ in that! Meaningless cant, when it’s trotted out endlessly.”
“Your mama will come out of her conniption fit the moment she hears the villains have been caught. Though what will she hear, Carmine? How much of it will make the news?”
“Precious little. Smith will be written off as a maniac found fit to stand trial. The information in the exercise books will never be used. He’ll go down on physical evidence-the razor for Dee-Dee and the killing kit for Skeps. His motive? Control of Cornucopia,” said Carmine without regret.
“How can that be stretched to encompass Dee-Dee?”
“The DA will allege that she tried to blackmail him as one of her customers.”
“He’ll hate that! He’s a shocking Puritan.”
“Then let him produce a better reason for killing her. One thing for sure, he won’t admit to treason. He’s convinced he won’t stand trial for treason.”
“Do you think he will?” Desdemona asked curiously.
“I have no idea,” Carmine said.
“He must be a very vain man.”
“Vain in every way,” Carmine said with feeling, “from his custom-made clothes to his custom-made house.”
“Not to mention his custom-made sports cars.” She unwound her legs. “Dinner.”
“What is it tonight?”
“Saltimbocca alla Romana.”
“Wow!” Carmine slipped an arm about her waist and walked with her to the kitchen.
“Myron’s bringing Sophia home,” she said, setting out the dishes and checking her ziti in tomato sauce. The frying pan was already sitting on the stove, the veal and its prosciutto waiting alongside a small bowl of minced fresh sage. “Fancy a sear of marsala liquor in the pan afterward?”
“Why not? Has Myron gotten over his depression?”
“The moment, I gather, you ripped him a new arsehole for making Sophia’s life hard.” She lit the gas under her pan, wiped it with a smear of olive oil. “Fifteen minutes and we can eat.”
“I can hardly wait.”
“Have you decided which one gets the lieutenancy?” asked the Commissioner.
“Sir!” cried Carmine, looking thunderstruck. “That’s not my decision to make!”
“If it’s not yours, whose is it, for crying out loud?”
“Yours and Danny’s!”
“Crap. It’s yours. Danny and I will go along.”
“Sir, I can’t! I honestly can’t! Just when I think one guy is it, the other one comes back stronger than ever! Look at their last two cases! Abe collars the mummy fruitcake in a brilliant piece of work. Right, he’s got Larry’s job. Then Corey collars Phil Smith’s papers in a brilliant piece of work. John, they’re both so good! It’s a crying shame that I have to lose one of them to another police department when he doesn’t get the job. Abe is intellectual, thoughtful, sensitive, calm and precise. Corey is clever, thinks on his feet, seizes the initiative, has enough logic to pass, and copes. Different qualities and different styles, but either of them would make a much better lieutenant than Larry Pisano, and you know it. So don’t go passing the buck to me, Commissioner! You’re the head of this department-
Silvestri listened solemnly, temper unruffled. When Carmine ran down he smiled, nodded, and looked insufferably smug.
“Did I tell you that I had a call from J. Edgar Hoover this morning?” he asked. “He was mighty pleased at the solution to the Cornucopia mess, and very happy to have the FBI take the credit for what was Holloman Police Department work. Well, I played along all dipshit dopey local cop, then I struck a pretty neat deal with him. I wouldn’t contradict a thing, provided that he took Mickey McCosker and his team onto the FBI payroll. J. Edgar was delighted to oblige.” Silvestri huffed, immensely tickled by his own crafty thinking. “Therefore, Captain Delmonico, there are
“I could kiss you!”
“Don’t even think about it.”
“You can have the honor of telling them, John.”
“Any idea who you want for your own team?”
“One certainty. Your niece Delia, if she’s willing to go to police academy and qualify.”
Silvestri gaped. “
“Dead earnest. That woman is a brilliant detective, she’s wasted as a secretary,” Carmine said.
“She’s too old and too fat.”
“Depends on her, doesn’t it? If she makes it through, she makes it through. I’m betting she will-she’s got all of the Silvestri guile and brains. She doesn’t need to be Hercules, just capable of giving chase and tackling. If she can’t cross a foaming torrent hanging onto a rope by her arms, tough shit. She comes from the academy straight onto my team.”
“What about Larry’s men?”
“I’ll split them up. One to Abe, one to Corey. That way, we each have one experienced detective, plus one new. We’ll choose our second-stringers from the applicant pool.”
“It might earn Delia some enemies.”
“I doubt it. The most the pool will be hoping for are two men into detectives. Instead, there’ll be three.”
“No one will ever believe she’s a cop!” Silvestri cried.
“Ain’t that the truth?”
What fantastic news! Carmine left County Services in the Fairlane, a very happy man. Summer was almost here, though it rarely became hot until after Independence Day, six weeks away.
He picked up the winding, leafy domain of Route 133 and headed for Philip Smith’s property. It bore the scars of much frantic digging, he noted after he passed through the imposing gates and followed the curves of the drive to
