'It's not.'
'Is.'
'Isn't.'
'Is.'
'Waldo, what's stupid is this.'
'You're right. I got to go, check in with Schufeldt, meet Maguire.' He kissed her on the cheek.
'Come here,' she said, pulling his head toward her, kissing him on the lips.
'Nice,' he said. 'You're some kinda ladygal.'
She laughed. 'So long gentlemanguy.'
'Oh, you're a hoot, you are,' he said, going down the steps.
'Waldo?' she called.
'Yeah?'
'Don't let Schufeldt get to you.'
'I won't.' Famous last words, he thought.
Colin sat in a back booth at the Paradise nursing a cup of black coffee. Hallock was late. Colin wondered what the chief wanted. He hadn't indicated on the phone, just said he needed his help. It was bound to be about the three murders, but how could he help?
He shouldn't have told Mark he was going out to meet Hallock, but he couldn't have predicted Mark's reaction.
'What do you mean he wants your help?'
'Just that. I don't know what it's about.'
'Are you slipping or what?'
There it was again, the soft edge of criticism-a feeling that Mark was trying to undermine him. 'Slipping?' He tried to sound casual.
'You didn't ask Hallock?' Mark said acrimoniously.
'I asked, he didn't answer. He said he didn't want to talk about it over the phone.'
'I think he's getting flaky. He's never had a murder to solve before, now he has three of them.'
'I don't know, he doesn't seem flaky to me. Just cautious.'
'Cautious, hell. Behind the eight ball is what he is.'
'Maybe, but he's got some kind of plan.'
Mark laughed derisively. 'Waldo Hallock's never had a plan in his life. You don't really know this guy, Colin.'
'No, not well, but-'
'Not well? Not at all.'
There was no use in arguing the point.
'Suppose I say you can't go?' Mark said.
'Come on, what's this all about?'
'It's about wasting time, Colin, that's what it's about.'
'If you don't want me to go, I won't go. But I don't know what you're afraid of.'
'Don't be an asshole. What do I have to be afraid of?'
'You tell me.'
'Go on, big-time crime reporter, get the hell out of here. But when you come back with egg on your face don't blame me.'
Annoyed, Colin left. Walking toward the Paradise, Mark caught up to him.
'Hey, pal, listen,' he said, a hand on Colin's shoulder, turning him around. 'I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me… yeah, I do.'
Colin waited.
'I spoke to Amy this morning. It screwed me up. You know how it is.'
In fact, Colin didn't know how it was.
'Forget everything I said, okay, pal?'
'Consider it forgotten,' he answered grudgingly.
Sitting in the Paradise, Colin hadn't forgotten any of it. He didn't believe Mark but he didn't know why. Maybe he had talked to Amy, maybe it had even upset him, but Colin didn't think for a moment that Mark's attack had anything to do with Amy. There was only one reason Mark behaved the way he had: He was in a jealous rage. He couldn't stand Colin's good relationship with Hallock. Although it was nothing new, and Mark had previously said he was glad Colin got on with Hallock, something about this was out of sync and it nagged at him.
Hallock, mouth set in a grim line, approached the booth. 'Son of a goddamn bitch!'
'What's up, Chief?'
'Son of a frigging bitch!' He sat down and slammed the table hard. 'That ass-backwards moron! Christ Almighty!' His mouth was tight, shoulders in a dispirited droop.
Colin waited, lit a Marlboro.
'Schufeldt,' he hissed, sounding like a steam engine.
One look at the macho wonder boy and he'd known there'd be friction between him and Hallock, so he wasn't surprised at the chief's outburst. 'What happened?'
'The fucker's decided the mark's not an A.'
'Yeah? What is it?'
'You ready? It's a cult marking.'
'A what?'
'A cult marking. You know, the mark of some loony-tunes group like Hare Krishnas or Moonies or some damn thing.'
Colin thought maybe Schufeldt might be onto something.
'What's that look in your eye, Maguire?'
'No look.'
'Bull.'
'Tell me why he thinks that?'
'Who the fuck knows? You think he lets me in on his thought processes? Doesn't even let himself in on them. Coupla days ago he's dragging in all the sex offenders, even though I point out to him that's not our guy's M.O. So now he wants to bring in any weirdos. Eighty percent of the Fork are weirdos, I tell him.' Hallock laughed.
'What'd he say?'
'Nothing. Just gives me this look supposed to be hardass or some such. The bastard thinks he's Clint Eastwood.'
Colin smiled. 'I wish you knew why he thinks it's a cult marking.'
'What the hell difference does it make?'
'Maybe he's got something.'
'You kidding me? Forget about it.'
Colin shrugged. 'You never know, Chief.'
'I know.' He jabbed a thick thumb at his chest.
Colin could see this was not a line of inquiry to pursue. Still, you never knew. Maybe he should investigate this on his own. 'So why're you so bugged about it?'
Hallock leaned forward, lowered his voice. 'Because the stupid bastard is rounding up whoever he thinks is weird, going to bring 'em in, grill 'em. I mean, shit, Maguire, we don't do stuff like that around here. Thing is, he wanted me to go out, round the loons up. No way, Jose, I tell him.'
'What'd he say?'
'Said if I didn't he was going to report me.'
'Who to?'
'I don't know. Gildersleeve, I guess. Town board.'
'Did you say again you wouldn't do it?'
'I said nada. Just walked out. Came here.' He took off his cap, dropped it on the seat beside him and ran a crumpled handkerchief over his sweaty brow.