Prosecution in the first degree, Section 205.65 of the Penal Law. Want to hear it?”
“Shove it up your ass,” the blonde said.
“Nice talk on the lady,” Ollie said. “Hindering prosecution is rendering criminal assistance to a person who’s committed a class-A felony. Murder Two is a class-A felony. So’s Attempted Murder One. If your friends whisk you out of here, they’ll be staring at a seven-year max in the slammer. Maybe that’s why they’re not here yet, huh?”
“All in good time,” the blonde said.
“Oh sure, I hear them thundering down the hallway right this minute.”
The blonde actually cocked her head toward the door.
“But maybe not,” Ollie said. “Ballistics is checking the slugs that killed the two dealers. If they match the ones we test-fire from that cannon you were carrying …”
“Save it. I’m not interested.”
“Well, let me tell you what else we’ve got,” Carella said. “It might change your mind.”
“I got shot last night. I’m tired. Goodbye, Mr. Detective.”
“We’ve got one of the guys you killed wearing a wire. We’ve got the other guy you killedtalking on that wire. Saying a lot of interesting things about a company called Wadsworth and Dodds, ever hear of them?”
“No.”
“W&D?”
“No.”
“Witches and Dragons?” Carella said. “Is that a glimmer I see in your eye? How about Mother? Do you know who Mother is?”
The blonde said nothing.
“Ever see that name on a W&D computer?”
The blonde was still silent.
“Ever hear that name anyplace?”
“Why don’t you go home, Mr. Detective?”
“People keep telling me to go home,” Carella said to Ollie.
“Maybe you should,” Ollie said.
“Yeah, but gee, I’d like to finish this, you know?”
“So finish it.”
“Here’s where we’re coming from, Miss,” Carella said, turning back to the bed. “A person is guilty of Murder in the First Degree when the intended victim is a police officer who at the time of the killing is engaged in the course of performing his official duties, quote, unquote, Section 125.27 of the state’s Penal Law. You tried to kill a police officer last night, honey.Me. Would have killed me, in fact, if another police officer—Detective Oliver Wendell Weeks here—hadn’t expediently intervened. That makes the crimeAttempt to Commit Murder, which in this case is an A-1 felony. Add to that theactualmurders of both Tito Alberico Gomez and Walter Kennedy Wiggins, and you’re looking at twenty-five years to life, three times over. That comes to seventy-five years in the slammer. You’ll be a hundred years old when you get out.”
“A hundred and five,” the blonde said.
“That’s if we don’t get a positive ID from the doorman.”
“What doorman?”
“The one who let you in Cass Ridley’s apartment building. Where you stuck an ice pick in her forehead. You can add another twenty-five for that one.”
“You think so?I think I’ll be out of here before you jerks leave the building.”
“You got shot when?” Ollie said. “Seven, seven-thirty last night? You know what time it is now? Almost one o’clock the next day. Has anyone been here to see you? Has anyone even called you? Where’s the cavalry, sweetheart? They’re riding into the sunset, that’s where they are, and leaving you to take the fall. But, hey, be loyal. Seventy-five years behind bars may seem better to you than anything we’ve got to offer.”
The blonde was looking at him.
Ollie figured he had her attention.
“Want to hear it?”
“No. I want to go to sleep.”
“Okay, go to sleep. I guess we’ll have to charge her on all three counts, Steve.”
“Maybe four if we get lucky with the doorman,” Carella said. “Too bad she can’t help us get our search warrant, huh?”
“A crying shame,” Ollie said.
“Well, what are you gonna do?” Carella said, and shrugged. “Let’s go home.”
“So long, Miss,” Ollie said, and both detectives started out of the room.
“What do you mean?” the blonde asked.
