and I said, that’s the man right there. He looked at me with those same penetrating eyes.
They found him guilty and they sent him away. I watched the two bailiffs lead him out of the courtroom. He was going to prison for the rest of his-
A sound. The phone.
The phone was ringing.
I woke up. I grabbed the gun off the table, my heart pounding. The clock read 2:57.
The phone rang again. The machine went on. The call was traced. I could see the number right there on the readout.
I picked up the receiver. I didn’t hear anything.
“Hello?” I said.
Silence.
“Are you there?”
Silence.
“Say something,” I said.
Silence.
“Goddamn it, say something!”
Silence.
“Tell me about what you did,” I said. “I want to hear about it. Tell me everything.”
Silence.
“You motherfucking piece of shit, who are you? ”
He hung up.
I was just about to throw the phone, but stopped myself. I picked up the walkie-talkie. “Come in,” I said.
“Right here, Mr. McKnight. Is everything all right?”
“He just called.” I gave him the number from the machine.
“Hold on,” he said. I heard him calling in the number. I knew it would only take a few seconds for them to look it up, then another couple minutes to get to the phone. Something in my gut told me that it would be a pay phone. Two squad cars would come racing into the deserted parking lot of a gas station or a restaurant. The pay phone would stand alone under a street lamp, not a soul in sight.
I thought about what the note had said. I didn’t have it with me, of course. I couldn’t look at it to convince myself that it was real. I couldn’t read it to try to make sense of it. What did it say? What were the exact words?
It can’t be Rose. He can’t be here. He’s in prison. There’s no way he could be anywhere else.
The note. What did it say? Something about microwaves, about the chosen one, about me being in disguise.
I never told anyone about that.
I didn’t tell my wife. I didn’t tell the shrink the department sent me to. I never told anyone.
There were only three people in that room when he said those things. Rose, myself, and Franklin. And Franklin is dead.
CHAPTER TEN
I stopped by to see Maven the next day. He had the phone record on his desk. “It was a pay phone on Ashmun Street,” he said. “It’s only a block away from the second murder site.”
“I don’t understand why he didn’t say anything,” I said.
Maven rubbed his chin. “It’s almost like he knew he was being recorded.”
“How would he know that?”
“You tell me,” he said.
I shook my head. “You’re something else, Chief.”
He picked up the piece of paper and looked at it again. “Funny, you got three other calls last night. They’re all from the same number.”
“The Fultons’.”
“Yes.”
“So what?”
“It’s just funny,” he said.
“Uttley called me, and then Mrs. Fulton, and then Edwin.”
“Mr. Uttley is baby-sitting them now?”
“We didn’t have much choice, Chief,” I said. “I’m stuck in my cabin now, remember? And you didn’t seem too willing to post an officer over there.”
“Oh, I’m sure they’re safe,” he said.
“I don’t follow you,” I said. I felt the acid building in my stomach again. How long would I have to keep seeing this bastard every morning?
“This is your own personal psycho, McKnight. Why would he bother your friend? He even said in his note that he likes the guy, didn’t he?”
I just looked at him. “Am I ever going to get a coffee in this place?”
“Maybe some day, McKnight. The next time I’m in a good mood.”
That was enough of Maven for one morning, so I got myself out of there. While I was in town, I stopped by to see the pay phone. A detective was still there, finishing his work. He had dusted for fingerprints. I could still see traces of the powder on the phone.
There was a little bookstore nearby, a gift shop next to that. But I didn’t imagine there would have been anyone around at three o’clock in the morning. And even if there was, would they have noticed a man making a call at a pay phone?
If the man was wearing a big blond wig, maybe. Ha ha.
Angelo’s restaurant was just down the street, so I walked down to see it again. It was still deserted. I walked around to the back alley. The police had cleaned the place up pretty well. I had to get down on my hands and knees to see the faint residue of blood on the bottom of the grease barrel.
What was I doing here? Here I was in a dirty little alley, on all fours like a dog. My pants were probably ruined. What was I looking for? I didn’t even know. All I knew was it was driving me crazy, just sitting around wondering who this person was and what he would do next.
On the way back to Paradise I gave the Fultons a call on my cell phone. Everyone was fine, although Uttley had a stiff neck from sleeping on the couch. He told me he’d try the prison again when he went in to the office.
I went home and slept for a couple hours. Later I stopped in at the Glasgow. Jackie was the only person in the place, but that was fine by me.
“Haven’t seen ya in a couple days,” he said as he cracked a cold Canadian for me. God bless him.
“Things have been a little crazy,” I said.
“Have you seen the paper today? They had another murder in town.”
I took the newspaper from him. The headline read, “Local Man Slain Behind Restaurant, Second Murder In Three Days.” I read the story, but it didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know. They tried to get Maven to say something about it, but he gave them the usual line about it being too early in the investigation to comment. Maven’s picture was on page two. He didn’t photograph well.
“Damnedest thing,” Jackie said. “Hey, didn’t I read something about Edwin and that first murder? The one in the motel?”
“He just found the body,” I said. I was about to tell him all about it. He certainly knew how to listen. But I didn’t. I just felt too tired and confused to go through it all again. Maybe next time, I thought. We’ll go sit at a table and I’ll lay it all out for him. He might be able to help me make some sense of it.
I went back to the cabin and called Uttley. “The lock-down’s over,” he said. “I was able to get a message
