Trophies And Dead Things

'No. Maybe. I don't know. I suppose somebody might of taken a dislike to one of my commercials.' He meant the words humorously, but they came out flat.

'Well, you are something of a public figure.'

Anne-Marie got the door open and we trooped inside.

'Willie,' I said, 'will you try to think-'

'McCone, just lay off. My mouth hurts, my head hurts, and now I'm gonna have to talk to the cops. You know how I feel about cops.'

'But-'

'Just lay off!'

We went into Anne-Marie's living room. Willie collapsed on her pale yellow sofa and stuck his booted feet on the white French Provincial coffee table. She didn't protest. Rae hovered behind the sofa.

I glanced at Willie. He had an odd expression on his face, as if remembering something disturbing. 'McCone,' he said, 'come to think of it, I've had the feeling lately that somebody was following me.'

'Did you actually see someone?'

'Nope. It's like I sense somebody's there, but when I look, nobody is.'

'When? How often?'

'Couple of weeks now. Maybe six, seven times. Always at night.'

'Where?'

'Outside my house, or All Souls when I go see Rae. I-'

There were footsteps on the porch. Hank and two uniformed officers entered. Reluctantly I stepped aside so they could speak with Willie.

By the time they finished getting preliminary information from all of us, the plainclothes team arrived. I wasn't surprised to see Greg Marcus, since he was heading the investigation into the snipings and had told me that morning that he'd been working long hours. He had an inspector named Bridges in tow, and looked as fresh and alert as if he were just beginning his day; Bridges looked sleepy and cross. Although the set of Greg's mouth was grim when he entered the room, his lips twitched in amusement as he surveyed us.

'This is about as wretched as I've ever seen this crew,' he said. 'Can't you people even stay out of trouble when you're having a dinner party?'

Willie frowned, trying-I thought-to decide whether he ought to take offense at Greg's levity. Rae had no reservations on that score: she glared at him. From their expressions I knew that Anne-Marie and Hank shared my relief; Greg's comment had injected a note of normalcy into a frightening situation.

Quickly he turned to the uniformed men and instructed them to go outside and see if they could locate the bullet. Then he asked Anne-Marie, 'Is there someplace where Inspector Bridges can take statements from you folks, while I talk privately with Willie?'

She nodded and motioned for Bridges to follow her. Hank and Rae went out behind him, Rae looking back over her shoulder at Willie as if she were afraid he might vanish in her absence. I lingered near the door.

'You, too,' Greg told me.

'Can't I-'

'No.'

I folded my arms and set my jaw.

'Don't look at me like that,' he said. 'You know I hate it when you look at me like that.'

I remained where I was.

'Dammit, stay then. But don't interrupt. One interruption and you're out of here.'

I nodded and sat down on a spindly chair by the window bay.

Greg sat next to Willie and began to question him about the shooting. Basically he asked what I had asked previously, and received similar replies. But when he came to the subject of people who might have wanted to harm him, Willie retreated into shrugs and near silence. It wasn't, I thought, that he didn't like Greg personally; Greg was also an old friend of Hank's, and that was enough to exempt him from Willie's general distrust of the police. It was more likely that he was embarrassed to mention anything as ephemeral as a feeling of being followed-bad for the macho image he likes to cultivate.

Finally I said, 'Willie, tell him what you told me.'

Greg glanced my way, eyes narrowing.

'I said I wouldn't interrupt, and I'm not-neither of you is saying anything. Besides, this is important. Tell him, Willie.'

Willie sighed and repeated what he'd said before.

When he finished, Greg looked thoughtful, rolling his ballpoint pen between his fingers. It was a gold Cross pen that I'd given him the first Christmas we'd been together, and the fact that he still used it touched me in an odd way.

Finally he said, 'What's interesting here is that it's the first time we know of that the sniper's missed. If the person who shot at Willie is the one who did the other killings. I wonder if the four victims felt as if someone was stalking them.'

'If someone was stalking them,' I said, 'what does that do to the theory that the killings are random?'

He shrugged. 'Could be he just picks his victim and bides his time until he finds a good opportunity.'

'But he also might have a motive-however irrational-for picking those particular victims.'

'I'd like that better. It would give us more to work with.'

Willie scowled. 'What if he tries again?'

'We'll put a man on your house right away.'

'I can't stay in my house the rest of my life!'

'Willie, we'll do what we can. For now, that's all I can promise you.'

Willie nodded-still scowling-and got up. The way he strode out of the room made apparent his displeasure at what he interpreted as a too-casual attitude on Greg's part.

Greg said to me, 'Where were you when the shot was fired?'

'Upstairs, in the hall.'

'And you were the first person down on the street, I suppose.'

'Unless you count Rae. She was at the corner when it happened, getting her car. She didn't see anything, she said.'

'Did you?'

'No. But when I arrived around ten, I had the same feeling of being watched as Willie described. And Hank says he's had it, too-last week, at All Souls. And there's a link between Hank and one of the sniper's other victims.' I explained about the Hilderly case.

Greg jotted down some notes as I spoke, then said, 'I'll talk to Hank about this.'

I remained sitting, studying him. Now that the interview was over, he looked tired. He ran a hand over his gray-blond hair, rumpling it, and stretching his long legs out under the coffee table. Oddly enough I found I wasn't thinking about the sniping or its implications; I was thinking about how far Greg and I had come in the years we'd known each other- from adversaries, to lovers, to friends. Of the three, this latter stage suited us best.

I said, 'I'm sorry if I kind of bullied you into letting me sit in.'

He shrugged. 'I'm used to your bullying by now. And as usual, you've done me a favor. Willie wouldn't have talked frankly without your prodding.' He rubbed his eyes and added, 'Send Hank in here, would you?' I nodded and stood up.

'And if you remember anything later that you haven't told me, give me a call right away.' I nodded again.

'Or if Willie tells you anything he might not have wanted to mention in front of me.'

Once again I nodded-I was beginning to feel like one of those tacky dashboard ornaments with its head on a spring-and backed out of the room.

When I arrived at All Souls at eight the next morning, Ted Smalley sat at his desk, tapping away on his computer keyboard. I checked the chalkboard for messages, then said, 'You know, you really could have taken the day off.'