You can go home.’
‘Thank you,’ said Stan.
‘Hey, why don’t we give you a ride?’ said Joe.
‘You sure?’ said Stan.
‘Not a problem,’ said Joe. ‘Back to Tuckahoe?’
‘No. My van’s at the clinic.’
‘Sure, OK.’
Joe had asked a lot of people if they wanted a ride home after spending hours grilling them in a small interview room. They often said yes because they felt it was a test. Maybe if they said no, it would be like they had something to hide. Sometimes they said no because, innocent or guilty, they just wanted to get the hell out of the station house. It looked like Stan thought he was passing a test. When they got to the car, he glanced at the milkshake stain on the hood.
‘Don’t ask,’ said Joe, throwing Danny the keys.
They got in and drove the short journey to 21st Street. Joe turned in his seat to talk to Stan.
‘So how long you been an electrician?’
‘Eight years,’ said Stan.
‘Really? You like it?’
‘Yeah,’ said Stan, ‘yeah I do.’
‘What did you do before that?’
‘I drove a truck.’
‘My father was a truck driver. What was your route?’
‘I delivered a lot to Riker’s Island.’
‘No shit. With who?’
‘Barbizan Trucking.’
‘Did you give it up because of all the Frayte jokes?’
Stanley smiled. ‘Something like that.’
They pulled up outside the clinic.
‘Here,’ said Joe. ‘Here’s my card. If you think of anything else or if you need anything, let me know.’
‘Sure,’ said Stan. ‘Thanks for the ride.’
‘Thanks for your help today.’
Stan walked over to the van. In the rearview mirror, Joe could see Julia Embry standing at the front door, waving to Stan to come in.
‘Your father’s a truck driver,’ said Danny, taking a right out of the clinic. ‘How many jobs have you given Giulio over the years?’
‘Hey, it’s the only time I get to see him as a regular guy,’ said Joe.
‘Jesus, you’re cruel.’
‘So what do we make of Miss Mary?’ said Joe.
‘Those eyes,’ said Danny.
‘Mary’s?’
‘Yeah. They’re like those dogs. What are they called? Those wolfy dogs.’
‘Huskies.’
‘Yes. That’s it.’
‘Down, boy.’
‘It’s just her eyes I’m talking about. You gotta admit, they were really something.’
‘Yeah.’
‘I mean, not that the rest of her…’
‘You’re not right, Danny. The girl looks like she needs to be wrapped up in cotton wool and, I don’t know… let nowhere near you, that’s for sure.’
David Burig sat on a short wooden bench in the grounds of Colt-Embry. Mary was beside him, facing him, her legs curled under her body. Her eyes were red and tired.
‘Mary, Mary, Mary,’ said David. ‘What am I going to do with you?’
‘Go to a movie?’ she said.
David smiled and hugged her. ‘Sending letters to the cops. You really thought you could help them.’
He could feel her nod against his chest.
‘You have a good heart,’ he said, rubbing her hair. ‘Remember the little kid around the corner who cried all the time and I used to say to him, “would an ice-cream make it better?” and he’d say, “yes” and I’d say, “well, when you’re at the store, will you get me one too?” Your little face – you’d laugh, but you felt so bad for him at the same time.’
She smiled. ‘I remember him. You were so mean.’
David pulled her away gently and looked at her. ‘Do you want to talk about these things? I don’t know if you do. I don’t know if I’m upsetting you.’
‘I do,’ said Mary. ‘Because I remember them. They mean that I had a good life. And people loved me. And I did things myself.’ She stared down at the ground. ‘I know I’m not intelligent any more.’
‘God, that’s heartbreaking,’ said David.
‘But it’s the truth,’ said Mary.
‘Look at you,’ he said, ‘you’re just so pretty and you look…’ He trailed off. ‘You made me laugh so much, Mare.’
‘And I don’t any more.’
‘Don’t say that. You do make me laugh. You cheer me up. You remind me that the world is good and pure…’ He stopped, because sometimes she reminded him that the world was a terrible place.
‘Look at your shirt,’ she said.
He looked down. ‘What?’
‘It’s shaking. Is your heart beating really fast?’ She frowned and reached out her hand.
‘No,’ he said, quickly taking hold of it. ‘That’s just the breeze.’ He smiled.
Mary looked at him. ‘Do you get tired of visiting me?’
‘No, no, no,’ said David. ‘Please don’t tell me you think that. It’s you and me, Mary. It always was. And always will be, OK?’
She nodded. ‘Thanks.’ She paused. ‘I’m sorry about the letters.’
Joe and Danny were pulling up at the car wash on Columbus Avenue when Joe’s phone rang. He pulled it out and flipped it open.
‘Joe? It’s Rencher. This Mary Burig broad? She was admitted to Downtown Hospital nine months ago, GSW to the head from…’ he paused, ‘… a twenty-two caliber automatic.’
Julia Embry had been paged to reception in the main clinic by the time Joe and Danny arrived back. She leaned over the desk to the receptionist. ‘Send Magda to the coffee shop when she comes in. Thank you.’
They took a quiet table in the corner and got coffee.
‘I’m sure you know every shooting is reported to the police in the ER,’ said Joe ’so when we ran Mary’s name, it came up.’
Julia nodded. ‘I didn’t know if it was relevant.’
‘I don’t know if you’ve been watching the news or reading the papers, but The Caller is killing his victims with a similar weapon…’
‘Oh my God,’ said Julia.
Joe nodded. ‘It’s looking like Mary could possibly have been a victim.’
‘But weren’t the victims all male?’
‘So far, yes,’ said Joe. ‘But it’s too much of a coincidence that Mary has been sending in these letters, she seems to have some information about the crimes and now she has an injury just like the other victims.’
‘I suppose you need to speak with her again.’
‘Yes,’ said Joe. ‘How was she when we left?’
‘She was down, frustrated that she couldn’t help. And scared. She’s back at her apartment now. I can take you over there.’
