money. The attitude was much the same as that expressed by Judge Gardner Monday. The stuff couldn't be passed anyway, so who cared?
He found Beth in his doorway when he hung up.
'John called while you were on the phone. He said he talked to that mailman. He says the old lady has gotten three or four real letters the past few months. The reason he noticed was because the sender used all real old two- and three-cent stamps. Postmarked in Rochester, New York. No return address.'
'Hmm. We're getting something stirred up, then. Wish we could spook her into giving herself away.'
'Norm, how come you want to get her so bad? You used to get on John. Now I think you don't care anymore. Not even how, so long as you take her down. How come?'
'Beth, I wish I knew. I worry about it too. Really. And I don't much like me for it. But I'm sure I'm right. I
'Phone's ringing.' She darted out. A moment later, 'It's your wife.'
'I'll take it in here. Yeah?'
'Mail came. There's an invitation.'
'Huh? What to?'
'A funeral.'
'Come on, Annie…'
'Really. From that Sister Mary Joseph.'
He was silent for a long time. Then, 'Beth, when did Hank release my stiff?'
'Early Monday morning. I thought you knew.'
'Son of a bitch. Me and him are going to have words over this.'
'Norm?' Annie was trying to get his attention again.
He snapped his fingers. 'Honey? Where? What time? Let me get a pencil here.'
'You're going?'
'Damned right. I'll bet Miss Groloch was invited too. And I'll bet she shows. No matter what part she's played, she's got to be damned curious about this thing.'
He wrote demonically as Annie relayed the information. 'Thanks, love. I've just got to run. Love you. Bye. Beth! Put out the word for John to call me.'
A half hour later they had it set up. John was able to confirm, from his chat with the postman, that Miss Groloch had received an invitation that morning.
Cash parked a half block short of the Groloch house. Castleman was one-way, eastbound. Any cab would have to pass them if already called. They had arrived, they judged, forty minutes before the woman would have to leave to make the funeral.
'This's crazy,' Harald insisted. 'I just don't see why you think she'll go.'
'Call it a hunch.' The sun beat down. The car quickly evened up. He didn't feel communicative.
'How's she going to get a cab?'
'She's going to walk down to that pay phone. If she hasn't already.'
Passersby gazed at them curiously. The neighborhood hairy youth appeared on his front porch, stared, ducked back inside. Even plainclothes cops were easily recognized by their suits, semi-military haircuts, and blackwall tires.
'Bet that jerk thinks it's him we've got staked out.'
'Want me to go roust him?'
'What for?'
'He must've done something.'
'Shit, John. Probably got a little pot put away. What's the dif?'
Harald shrugged, changed the subject. 'What the hell do we get out of this even if she does go?'
'I don't know. It just seems to me that, long as we can keep her breaking her pattern, chances are she'll slip up. I want to be there when it happens. You ever see a dog go after one of them little box turtles you find in the woods? That turtle is safe… as long as Rover don't con him into sticking his head out.'
'Shit. Can't we move up? That sun's murder.'
'Soon as somebody pulls out from under a tree.'
'How about I walk over to Lambert's and get us a couple of Cokes?'
'You really got the fidgets, don't you? Yeah, sure. Here. I'll buy.'
'Hang on. Here we go.'
Miss Groloch was on the move. She was brisk, businesslike, as she strode eastward, quite alert to her neighbors' reactions. Few of them had ever seen her. Those who had been out surreptitiously eyeballing the cops now watched her.
