revolver off the range.
'Once?' Harold Gerber jeered.
'Amateur night. I wasted so many in Nam I lost count. After a while it didn't mean a thing.' kill':Bulltshit,' the Spoiler said.
'I don't care how many you kill it gets to you.'
'Now that is bullshit,' the vet said.
'I'm telling you, man, you never give it a second thought. See that guy over there the fat slob at the bar trying to make out with the old whore?
I never saw him in my life. But if I was carrying a piece and felt like it, I could walk up to him, plink his eyes out, and never lose a night's sleep.' -you're cropping me.'
'I swear,' Gerber said, holding up a palm.
'That's the way I feel-or don't feel.'
'Shit, man, you're a walking time bomb.' *That's right. Doc Ellerbee was trying to grow me a conscience again, but it was heavy going.'
'Too bad he was dusted,' Keisman said.
'Maybe he could have helped you.'
'Maybe,' Gerber said.
'Maybe not.'
He went over to the bar and brought back another pitcher of beer.
'You pack a gun?'
'Sure,' Keisman said.
'Regulations.'
'Lend it to me for a minute,' Harold Gerber. said.
'I'll put that shithead out of his misery.'
'You crazy, man?' the Spoiler said, definitely nervous.
'I don't give a fuck what you do, but I lend you my iron and it's my ass.'
'Slob,' Gerber muttered, glaring at the man at the bar.
'If you won't lend me, maybe I'll just go over and kick the shit out of him.'
'Come on,' Keisman said.
'I'm on duty; I'm not even supposed to be drinking, especially with a pistol like you.'
'Well…' the vet said grudgingly, 'if it wasn't for that, I'd put the bastard away. It wouldn't mean a thing to me. If I was alone, I'd just ace him, come back to the table, work on my beer, and wait for the blues to come get me,'
'I believe you would.'
'You bet your ass I would. It wouldn't be the first time.
What if I told you I put Doc Ellerbee down-would you believe me?'
'Did you?'
'If I told you I did, would you believe me?'
'Sure, I'd believe you. Did you do it?'
'I did it,' Harold Gerber said.
'He was a nosy fucker.'
Detective Robert Kcisman reported this conversation to Jason, and the two of them decided they better bring it to Delaney in person.
It hadn't been a good day for Delaney. Too many phone calls; too many people leaning on him.
It started right after breakfast when he went into the study to read the morning Times. There was a front- page article, with runover, about the declining solution rate for homicides in the New York area. It wasn't cheerful reading.
The lead-in was about the murder of Dr. Simon Ellerbee, and how, after weeks of intensive investigation, the police were no closer to a solution than they had been the day the body was found. Delaney was halfway through the article when the phone rang.
'Thorsen,' he said aloud and picked up.
'Edward X. Delaney here,' he said.
'Edward, this is Ivar. Did you see that thing in the Times?'
'Reading it now.'
'Son of a bitch!' the Deputy said bitterly.
'That's all we need. Did you come to that paragraph about Suarez?'
'Not yet.'
'Well, it said that he's Acting Chief of Detectives, and implied that the outcome of the Ellerbee case will probably have a crucial effect on his permanent appointment.'
'That's true enough, isn't it? Ivar, what's all the foofaraw about the Ellerbee case? Suarez must have at least a dozen other recent unsolved homicides in his caseload.'
'Come on, Edward, you know the answer to that: Ellerbee was someone. The moneyed East Side people couldn't care less if some hophead gets knocked off in the South Bronx. But Ellerbee was one of their own kind: an educated professional, wealthy, with a good address. So the powers that be figure if it could happen to him, it could happen to them, and they're running scared. I've already had four phone calls on that Times article this morning. That kind of publicity the Department doesn't need.'
'Tell me about it.'
'Any progress, Edward?'
'No,' Delaney said shortly.
'A lot of bits and pieces, but nothing earthshaking.'
'I don't want to pressure you, but-2' 'But you are.'
'I just want to make certain you're aware of the time element involved.
If this thing isn't cleared up by the first of the year, we might as well forget about it.'
'Forget about trying to find Ellerbee's killer?'
'Now you really are acting like Iron Balls. You know what I mean. The Ellerbee file will remain open, of course, but we'll have to pull manpower.
And Suarez goes back to his precincts-if he's lucky.'
'I get the picture.'
'by the way,' the Admiral said breezily, 'you may be getting calls from the Ellerbees-the widow and the father. To get them off my back, I suggested that you represent our best chance of solving the case.'
'Thank you very much, Ivar. I really appreciate your kind cooperation.'
'I thought you would,' the Deputy said, laughing.
'I'll keep in touch, Edward.'
'Please,' Delaney said, 'don't bother.'
The two Ellerbees called all right. Both were in a surly mood to start with, and even surlier when they hung up.
Delaney would give them no comfort whatsoever. He said several leads were being followed, but no one had been identified as a definite suspect, and a great deal of work remained to be done.
'When do you think you'll have some good news?' Henry Ellerbee demanded.
'I have no idea,' Delaney said.
'When do you think you'll find the killer?' Dr. Diane Ellerbee said sharply.
'I have no idea,' Delaney said.
The three phone calls irritated him so much that he was tempted to seek the solace of a good sandwich-but he resisted. Instead, he went to his files, driving himself to read through the records one more time.
The purpose here was to immerse himself in the minutiae of the case. At this stage he could not allow himself to judge some details significant and some meaningless. All had value: from the hammer blows to Ellerbee's eyes to Sylvia Mae Otherton's use of a Ouija board.
Now there was a curious coincidence, he suddenly realized. The victim had been deliberately blinded, and the Ouija planchette had spelled out 'blind.' What did that mean-if anything? He began to feel that he was sinking
