Bellsey's favorite hangouts.
Showing the borrowed photo to owners, waiters, bartenders, and regular customers, Calazo learned a lot about Bellsey-none of it good. The detective was convinced the subject had been responsible for the four unsolved assaults, plus the attack on Tim Hogan. But he doubted if there would ever be enough evidence to arrest, let alone indict and convict.
His main problem, he knew, was to determine if Bellsey was really at home on the night Ellerbee was killed. Mrs. Lorna Bellsey had told Hogan that she hadn't actually seen her husband from eight-thirty to eleven o'clock. But that didn't necessarily mean he wasn't there.
In addition to solving that puzzle, Calazo was determined to do something about Hogan's beating. Big Tim was estupido, but still he was a cop, and that meant something to Benjamin Calazo.
Also, he hated guys like Ronald J. Bellsey who thought they could muscle their way through life and never pay any dues. So, in his direct way, Calazo began to plot how he might solve his problems and, at the same time, cut Bellsey off at the knees.
The fact that he would be retired, an ex-cop, in another three weeks, was also a factor. He would end his career gloriously by teaching a crud a lesson, avenging a fellow officer and, with luck, discovering who hammered in Dr. Ellerbee's skull.
That would be something to remember when he was playing shuffleboard in Florida.
If Edward Delaney had known what Calazo was planning, he'd have understood how the detective felt and sympathized.
But that wouldn't have prevented him from yanking Calazo off the case.
Personal hatreds had a way of fogging a man's judgment, and the downfall of Ronald Bellsey was small potatoes compared to finding Ellerbee's killer.
At the moment, Delaney had concerns of his own. Chief Suarez called and, in almost despairing tones, asked if there had been any progress.
Delaney told him there had been a few minor developments, no breakthroughs, and suggested the two of them get together and review the entire investigation.
They agreed to meet at Delaney's home at nine o'clock on Wednesday night.
'I wish Mrs. Suarez could come with you,' Delaney said.
'I know my wife would like to meet her.'
'That is most kind of you, sir,' Suarez said.
'I shall certainly ask her, and if we are able to arrange for the children, I am sure she will be delighted to visit your charming home.'
Delaney repeated this conversation to Monica.
'The guy talks like a grandee,' he said.
'He must drive those micks at headquarters right up the wall.'
'Well, we got an invitation, too,' Monica said.
'Diane Ellerbee called and asked if we'd like to come up to her Brewster place with the Boones this Saturday. I told her I'd check with you first, then call her back. I spoke to Rebecca and she said she and Abner would love to go. Shall I tell Diane it's okay for Saturday?'
'Oh-ho,' he said.
'Now it's 'Diane,' is it? What happened to 'Doctor Ellerbee'?'
'I have a lot in common with her,' Monica said loftily, 'and it's silly not to be on a first-name basis.'
'Oh? What do you have in common with her?'
'She's a very intelligent woman.'
'You win,' he said, laughing.
'Sure, call and tell her we'll be there on Saturday. Is she going to feed us?'
'Of course. She said she's thinking about a buffet dinner for early evening.'
'A buffet,' he said grumpily.
'That's as bad as a cafeteria.'
Promptly at nine o'clock on Wednesday evening, Michael and Rosa Suarez arrived at the brownstone, both wearing what Delaney later described as Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes. Introductions were made and the two couples settled down in the big living room, close to the fireplace, where a modest blaze warmed and mesmerized.
They talked of the current cold snap, of the problems of raising children, of the high cost of ground beef. Mrs. Suarez spoke little, at first, but Delaney had prepared hot rum toddies (with lemon and nutmeg), and after two small cups of that, Rosa's shyness thawed and she began to sparkle.
Monica brought out a plate of her special Christmas treats: pitted dates stuffed with almond paste, covered with a flaky pastry crust and then rolled in shredded coconut before baking. Rosa tried one, rolled her eyes ecstatically.
'Please,' she begged, 'the recipe!'
Monica laughed and held out her hand.
'Come into the kitchen with me, Rosa. We'll trade secrets and let these two grouches talk business.'
Delaney took Suarez into the study and provided cigars.
'First of all,' the Chief said, 'I must tell you that I have been forced to cut the number of men assigned to the Ellerbee homicide. We were getting no results, nada, and the murder was a month ago. More than a month. Since then there have been many, many things that demand attention. What I wish to say is that you and the people assigned to you are now our only hope. You understand why it was necessary to pull men off this case?'
'Sure,' Delaney said genially.
'What are you averaging four or five homicides a day? I know you have a full plate and can't give any one case the coverage it needs. Believe me, Chief, it's always been that way. The problem comes with the territory.'
'On the phone you spoke of some developments. But nothing important?'
'No,' Delaney said, 'not yet.'
He then told Suarez how Isaac Kane and Sylvia Mae Otherton had been eliminated as suspects.
'That leaves us with four possibly violent patients, one of whom has confessed. I don't think that confession is worth a tinker's dam-but still, it's got to be checked out. The alibis of the other three are being investigated. At the moment, I'd say that Joan Yesell is the most interesting. It seems likely her mother lied when she told us Joan was home at the time of the killing. I've got two people working on that.'
'So you are making progress.'
'I don't know if you can call it progress,' Delaney said cautiously.
'But we are eliminating the possibles and getting down to the probables.
Yes, I guess that's progress.'
Suarez was silent, puffing on a cigar. Then he said, 'But what if-'
Delaney held up a palm to stop him.
'What if! Chief, the what-ifs can kill you if you let them. I think we've cleared Kane and Otherton. I believe it on the basis of good detective work and a little bit of luck. But what if Kane offed Ellerbee and then cabbed back to the Beeles' apartment on West Eighty-third Street? They might remember him being there on the murder night, but couldn't swear to the time he arrived.
And what if Otherton called the lobby clerk from outside on the night of the murder? What if she clubbed Ellerbee and then used his office phone to call the clerk just to set up an alibi? All I'm saying is that you can drown yourself in whatifs. A detective has got to be imaginative, but if you let yourself get too imaginative, you're lost.'
Michael Ramon Suarez gave him a warm smile.
'That is very true-and a lesson I am still learning. It is a danger to assume that all criminals are possessed of super intelligence.
Most of them are quite stupid.'
'Exactly,' Delaney agreed.
'But some of them are also quite shrewd. After all, it's their ass that's on the line. What I believe is that all detectives have to walk a very thin line between the cold, hard facts and the what-ifs. Sometimes you have to go on a wing and a prayer.'
