'This was after she taped the Valparaiso kidnapping last month,' Cudahy said. 'I spotted you going into the screening room together to watch the tape. The screening room is right down the hall from Transportation. I saw you when you went in, and I saw you when you came out together. I knew something was going on right then. Knew it right off. Figured I had to stop it.'
'Why?' Hawes asked.
'Why? Because I have an investment in her.'
'Oh, you do, huh? What kind of investment, if you don't mind?'
An emotional investment. I watched her from the very
beginning, from when she first came to the station from Iowa, when they had her doing these remotes from godforsaken places all over the city, in weather you could freeze yourself, those little skirts she wears, in rainstorms, snowstorms, even places that were dangerous, drug dealers, hookers, they sent her everywhere! And I was watching her. So I wasn't about to let somebody step in and take my place, not after all those years of her paying her dues.'
'Take your place, huh?'
'Yes! My rightful place!'
'Did she even know you existed? Does she know you exist now?'
Hawes was trying to keep this from getting too personal here. But this little son of a bitch had tried to kill him, twice, no less.
'Oh, she knows I exist, all right. You think she doesn't stop in Transportation every now and then, thank us for the good service we provide, the cars we send her? You think she doesn't know I'm taking good care of her? She gave me a signed picture last Christmas. Autographed personally to me. 'To Eddie, With Warmest Wishes, Honey.' Warmest wishes. You think that means nothing, warmest wishes?'
'So you decided to kill me.'
'Only when you started sleeping over. Until then . . . listen, she's entitled to friends, that's okay with me. I didn't mind you taking her to restaurants, to movies, that was okay. But . . .'
'What'd you do, follow us?'
'Just to make sure you didn't harm her.'
'Followed us all over the city, is that it?'
'To protect her! But when you started staying at her place nights ... no. That wasn't right. It just wasn't right. No.'
He was shaking his head now, convincing himself that this wasn't right, trying to convince Hawes as well that this simply wasn't right.
'Did you know I was a cop?' 'Not at first.' 'How about later?' 'Yes.'
'But you didn't think I could protect her, huh? A police officer? Couldn't protect her, huh?'
'You're the one I was trying to protect her from!' 'So you tried to kill me.' 'Tried to keep you away from her.' 'And almost killed her in the bargain!' 'I didn't know she was in the car. I thought the driver had dropped her off at Four, and then gone to pick you up. I was waiting for you on Jefferson Avenue, but I didn't know she was with you.' 'Waiting to kill me,' Hawes said. 'To warn you.'
'But killing me would've been all right, too, huh?' 'You should have kept away from her. It was your fault I almost hurt her. I apologized for that.' 'Oh, you did, huh?' 'In the note I wrote.' 'What note?'
'I sent her an apology. Told her I was sorry, I didn't know she was in the limo.' 'When was this?'
'Right after what happened on Jefferson Avenue. The incident there.'
'Incident! Attempted murder, you mean!' And then, suddenly, what Cudahy had just said sunk in. If he'd really written Honey a note of apology, then she'd known all along that she hadn't been his intended
victim. All that stuff on television . . .
'Go ask her, you don't believe me,' Cudahy said. Hawes guessed he'd have to.
MEYER AND HIS two brilliant sleuths were still pondering the first two notes when the third one arrived at twelve minutes to ten. It read:
Why, sir, is this such a piece of study?
Now here is three studied, ere ye'H thrice wink:
Meyer called Carella at once.
'He's zeroing in on three,' he told him.
'Going backwards, too,' Carella said. 'Halving the numbers each time. First twelve, then six, now three.'
'Backwards and smaller.'
'Right. Spears, arrows, darts, remember?'
'If he's saying three o'clock,' Meyer said, 'then it's still either Clarendon Hall or the library.'
'Neither of which is in our precinct.'
'So what was all that about 'a precinct's shit'?'
'Might've had nothing to do with anything. Just an anagram for 'prognosticate this.' Just him telling us to predict.'
'Or. . .' Meyer said.
Yeah?'
'Did you notice he said 'a precinct's shit'? Not 'the precinct's shit.' What he said was 'Go to a precinct's shit.''
'So?'
'So . . . if it's three o'clock, then it's Clarendon Hall or the library. It's either the Eight-Four's shit, or Mid Souths. Not ours.'
'Yeah, I get what you're saying.'
'Although
'Yeah?'
'He says, 'Go to a precinct's shit.' Go to it. Maybe he's telling us to send some of our own people to both venues.'
Yeah, maybe.'
'It's a thought, isn't it?' Meyer said.
Carella could almost see him smiling.
'It's a good thought,' he said. 'Let's see what he sends next.'
You put on your tuxedo yet?'
'Just about to.'
THE NEXT NOTE came at 10:27 a.m.
My lord, I was born about three of the clock in the afternoon
'Three o'clock for sure,' Meyer told Carella on the phone. 'That still makes it either Sallas and the Eight- Four, or the folio and Mid South.'
'We're covered either way,' Carella said.
'Right.'
Both men fell silent.
'The thing is . . .'
'I know.'
'If it's either Mid South or the Eight-Four, why's he breaking our balls?'
'Maybe we're reading this all wrong,' Meyer said.
You think?'
'No, I think we've got it right.'
'But, you know . . .'
Yeah.'
'All that tight security.'
'Right.'
'He can't really be telling us it's three o'clock, can he?'
Both men were silent again.
'So how do you want to work this?'
'I've got a wedding to go to.'
