why was it so good?
Cathy Jordan and Frank Cariucci had tiptoed around each other, exchanging no more words than were necessary. Neither of them wished to begin a conversation that could reopen old wounds and, in all probability, inflict new ones. Mollie Hansen had phoned earlier to enquire whether Cathy were happy to be interviewed on Kaleidoscope that evening, she had to ring John Goudie back and let him know.
Now Mollie was there at the hotel, making sure that the travel arrangements to London were clear; after the radio programme, there was a book signing in the Charing Cross Road at Murder One, at which point the publicist working for Cathy's UK publisher would take over and Mollie was in the clear. That is, she could get on with attending to the rest of the festival.
She was leaning against the counter at reception, just through speaking to Cathy on the internal phone, when Resnick came in.
'Not more trouble?' she asked, intercepting him with a guarded smile.
'No.' He realised he was staring at her and looked away.
Mollie laughed.
'My God! You don't like it, do you?'
'What?'
'And now you're embarrassed to have noticed.' She 254 had had a small stone filled in the right side of her nostril, bright blue.
'Not at all,' Resnick blushed.
'You don't approve, body adornment?'
He shook his head.
'I don't suppose I've ever thought about it. I was surprised, that's all.'
Mollie smiled.
'Do you like it, though? Be honest. I'd like to know what you think.'
'I think you looked fine before.'
It was Mollie's turn, almost, to flush.
'You're here to see Cathy?'
He nodded.
'Just quickly. I shall't be long.'
'If I hang on,' Mollie said,
'I don't suppose I could scrounge a lift?'
'If I had the car with me you could.'
'Never mind. Some other time maybe?'
'Maybe.'
'Well,' backing away, 'see you around, I guess. Come to a movie, why don't you? '
'I'll try.'
Mollie raised a hand, fingers spread, and turned towards the doors.
By the time she had walked from sight, Resnick was standing by the lifts, watching the numbers descend.
When Resnick got out of the lift on Cathy Jordan's floor, Frank Carlucci was waiting to get in. The two men exchanged cursory nods before Frank, hands in pockets and ample shoulders hunched, stepped inside and the doors closed behind him.
Cathy opened the door on Resnick's first knock and was surprised to see him standing there and not Frank.
'Sorry. Figured you for the penitent husband, back to crave forgiveness.'
'Does he have something to be forgiven for?'
Cathy's mouth turned upwards into a smile.
'Don't we all? And wouldn't life be a deadly bore if we did not?' She moved aside to let Resnick enter.
'But in Frank's case, this particular case, I have no idea.' She shrugged.
'Going on his track record, I'm prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt.'
'Innocent as charged.'
Cathy grinned.
'Guilty.'
'Marius likewise.'
'He owned up?'
Resnick nodded.
'The letters as well?'
'Yes.'
Cathy's fist punched the air.
'The bastard! The snivelling lousy bastard!'
'He got a friend in the States to send the letters for him; everything that happened over here was down to him. He swears he never had any intention of carrying any of it through. Just wanted to frighten you. shake you up; make you think about what you were doing.'
'Frighten me?'
'Yes.'
'The little shit!'
'As far as it's possible to tell, my guess is he's telling the truth.
It's difficult to see him as actually dangerous, more of a nuisance. '
'If I didn't know better, I'd think you were building up to telling me you're about to let him go.'
Resnick stood there looking at her.
'Jesus! You are! You're going to give him a friendly pat on the head and a warning. Be a good slime bag and don't do it again.' She turned, shaking her head.
'I can't believe it. I can't lucking believe it!'
'Dorothy Birdwell insists she won't press charges. Also, she's paid to have the room set back to rights and the hotel's keen to avoid any adverse publicity.'
Cathy's face was white with anger.
'Which just leaves 256 me, right? And who the fuck am I, that you should give a good goddamn?'
Resnick took a pace towards her, then a pace back. 'Cathy,' he said.
'What?'
'Whatever you decide to do, it's unlikely, given all the circumstances, that the GPS will recommend prosecution.'
'Shit!' Cathy crossed the room to the whisky bottle, poured a stiff shot and carried it back with her to the set tee
'So what will happen to him? Exactly.'
'Most likely, he'll be bound over not to repeat this or any other behaviour.'
'And then he'll walk?'
Resnick nodded.
'Yes.'
Cathy took one sip at her Scotch and then another. 'Where is he now?
You've still got him in custody? '
'Yes, why?'
All energy, Cathy jumped to her feet.
'Fine. I want to see him.'
'I don't know…'
'Come on, just see him, right? One final time. Tell him goodbye.'
Resnick looked a long way short of convinced.
'Inspector… Charlie… Surely it's the least you can do? After all, I'm not exactly about to stick a knife in him, pull out a gun.'
'I still don't know…'
