“Detective Steve Carella, Eighty-seventh Squad.”
“This is David Horne.”
“Mr. Horne, we’re investigating a homicide here, woman named Cassandra Jean Ridley …”
“Yes?”
“… whom we’ve linked to a man named Wilbur Struthers …”
“Yes?”
“Did three and a third at Castleview on a burglary fall …”
“Yes, I know the man. I questioned him about some suspect hundred-dollar bills.”
“Related to a kidnapping,” Carella said, nodding.
There was a silence on the line.
“Can you tell me which kidnapping that was?” Carella asked.
“No, I’m afraid that’s classified information,” Horne said.
“Even to a fellow law enforcement officer?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“This is a homicide, you know.”
“So you told me.”
“Well, can you at least tell me how it worked out?”
“How what worked out?”
“The questioning.”
“I confiscated eight thousand dollars in hundred-dollar bills, checked the serial numbers against our list, and came up negative. I returned the bills to Mr. Struthers that very same day. End of story.”
“Which list would that be? That you checked the bills against?”
“I’m afraid that’s classified, too.”
“Who was kidnapped, Mr. Horne? Can you tell me that?”
“Classified.”
“If I showed you the bills we recovered in the victim’s apartment, could you tell me if they’re the same ones you checked against this mysterious list of yours?”
“Do I detect a note of sarcasm in your voice, Detective Coppola?”
“It’s Carella.”
“Oh, forgive me. But this is Christmas Eve, you know …”
“Yes, I know that.”
“And I’m home here with my family. If you can …”
“Gee,I’mstill here at the office,” Carella said.
“That’s admirable, I’m sure. Call me on Tuesday, okay? Perhaps we can talk then.”
“Mr. Horne, the victim won’tever be talking again.”
“That’s unfortunate. But I’m certain our separate cases aren’t at all linked.”
“Then why were the serial numbers on her money being checked against bills paid in ransom, isn’t that what you said?”
“I said nothing of the sort.”
“Then it’s what Struthers told me.”
“A man with a criminal record.”
Carella could almost hear the dismissive shrug.
“He seemed to be telling the truth,” Carella said.
“Be that as it may.”
“Mr. Horne, I’m trying to find out who …”
“It’s Special Agent Horne, by the way.”
“Oh, forgive me. But somebody tossed a woman to the lions the other day …”
“Is that a metaphor, Detective?”
“I wish. We’re trying to find out who. Any help you can give us …”
“I have no help to offer. Our case is, as I said, classified. Besides, the bills we checked have nothing to do with that woman’s death.”
