'You're self-educated,' she said, touched his cheek.
'Yup, a self-educated illiterate.' He smiled. 'Come on, I'm hungry.'
'Me, too.'
At the counter Fran waited to pay for the book while Hallock stood near the door. A woman and child were ahead of her.
The woman said to Martha, 'Well, this was some lousy holiday weekend, wasn't it?'
'How's that?'
'I don't know about you, Martha, but I'm scared stiff all the time. I won't let Paulie out of my sight.' She put a protective arm around the boy. 'I don't know what kind of police we got here. Seems like they're just sitting around on their duffs.'
Martha glanced uncomfortably toward Hallock, then back to the bill she was writing. 'That'll be four-eleven, Mrs. Rowland.'
She opened her purse, rummaged around. 'Maybe we should just impeach the chief or something, I don't know. It makes you feel so helpless. Arthur says these local police don't know diddly-squat about catching a murderer. Arthur says-'
Hallock didn't wait to hear what else Arthur said. He left the store, walked down the block and stopped in front of Rita's Jean Shop. His hands were clenched at his sides and he'd begun to sweat.
Fran came out of the bookstore, saw where he was, and ran to him. 'Oh, Waldo, don't let her get to you.'
'It's not her. I mean, not her alone. What I'm trying to say is, if she thinks that way then there must be others- lots of them.'
'Even if there are, you know you're doing the best you can.'
'Maybe my best isn't good enough.'
'Your best is always good enough.'
'I don't know,' he said sadly. He thought of Schufeldt. He didn't want to tell Fran about him, but knew he would. 'C'mon, let's go. Where's your book?'
'I left it.'
'Ah, hell.'
'It doesn't matter, hon'. I'll get it another time.'
'Sorry.'
'It's okay. Where are we going?'
'Out of Seaville, that's for sure. Let's drive down to Mattituck, go to Crawford's, have a steak.'
'Sounds good.'
'Where's your car?'
'Round the corner.' She put her arm through his, held her chin up, proud to be with the chief of police.
The lunch crowd at Crawford's had thinned out by the time they got there. The place had a rustic look-cedar- shingled walls and hunting trophies. Tables were covered in brown-and-white checked cloths, salt and pepper shakers were in the shape of bears and deer.
Hallock wished he wasn't in uniform. He got a few stares. Some hostile ones, he thought. Fran said he was paranoid. He would have liked a martini, but didn't dare. That's all he'd need, Schufeldt smelling liquor on his breath, making a fuss.
'Stop eying my drink,' Fran said.
'I'm not.'
'The hell you're not. Oh, have something, Waldo. Never mind about that twerp.'
'I have to mind, Fran. One false move and Schufeldt would be happier than a pig in shit to tell Carl Gildersleeve.'
'I hate that expression.' She wrinkled her nose.
'Well, it's true. He would.'
'Never mind about him. Tell me about your plan.'
Hallock took a sip of his club soda, and decided it tasted better than those fancy carbonated waters costing three times as much. He knew he was stalling. The plan involved Fran, and it meant her sacrificing a lot of time. He didn't know if she'd go for it, but he had to give it a try. 'I guess I told you I think the A stands for either the killer's last name or first.'
She nodded.
'Well, I was thinking we could go through the phone book and list all the A names, both first and last, then call those people with a questionnaire we make up that'll sort them out. You know, find out which ones are women if it's an initial, which ones are old, housebound, crippled, etcetera. Narrow them down, get them into categories by age, jobs, stuff like that. I think we'd have something, Fran. It'd be a start anyway.'
'That's a swell idea, hon', but you can't spare any of the men for that kind of thing, can you?'
'I wasn't-'
'Two steaks, one plain, very rare; one marinated, medium,' the waitress interrupted, putting the rare one in front of Fran. 'Will there be anything else? Another drink?'
They shook their heads.
'What were you going to say before she brought our steaks?'
'Boy, this looks great,' Hallock said.
'I can't help feeling guilty having steak for lunch.'
'Why? Don't you think you deserve it?'
'We shouldn't be spending the money, Waldo. I mean with Cynthia needing all that dental work.'
Hallock reached across the table, put a large hand over her smaller one. 'Tell me this: If we were here for dinner instead of lunch, would you be feeling this way?'
'Maybe not. It's just that having a drink and a big steak for lunch seems decadent somehow.'
'You're just like your mother.'
'What's that mean?'
'Rules and regulations. Don't wear white till after Memorial Day, always put the toilet seat down after you go, only have steak for dinner.'
Fran laughed. 'I see what you mean.'
'Good.' He patted her hand. Hallock knew how much Fran loved to eat and marveled that she never gained an ounce. 'Now dig in.'
They both attacked their steaks in silence for a few minutes. Then Fran said, 'So go on about your plan. You were telling me about the phone book thing.'
He kept his eyes on his plate, fiddled with his baked potato.
'Waldo? What's up?'
He raised his head, the brown eyes with their downward slant appearing sad.
'Stop looking like a cur, Waldo.'
'I'm not looking like a cur. Christ!'
'I know a cur when I see one. What I don't know is why you're behaving like one. You have something up your sleeve, don't you? Something you don't want to tell me.'
'I want to tell you, I just don't know how.'
She put down her fork. 'You're going to do something dangerous, aren't you?'
'No, no, nothing like that.'
'You sure?'
'Positive. I swear.' He crossed his heart with his forefinger.
'Well, what then? You're making me crazy.'
Hallock put down his utensils, ran his hand over his chin as if he were feeling for stubble. 'Fran, the thing is, about those names in the phone book-I mean, well, you said it yourself.'
'Am I supposed to know what you're talking about? I'd need a decoder ring for that one.'
'Hold on, hold on. You said I couldn't spare anyone for that kind of work and you were right, I can't. But it needs to be done, the stuff with the phone book and-'
'I think I'm getting it,' she said despondently. 'Me. You want me to do it.'
'You and some of your friends.' He smiled crookedly.
