After a few moments of extremely reflective chewing, Mendelsohn leaned across the table. “Okay. Here’s the good stuff. My field supervisor and my colleagues would not approve, but I’m going to go out on a limb. Heck, I’ve already fallen through the ice in front of you-what harm can it do?
“Okay, we have these similar but not identical crimes. I see them as by the same guy or guys; others disagree. Fine. Here’s something I haven’t even floated by them yet, because I don’t want them to haul me straight down to St. Elizabeth’s.”
“St. Elizabeth’s?”
“Psychiatric facility in D.C. Full of agency burnouts. Anyway, here’s what I got-laugh if you want to, but hear me out first. These mashed potatoes are delicious, by the way. I sense more than a tablespoon of butter at work.
“Okay, we got the two cases-three, counting yours. I heard about three other unrelated cases-unrelated by anyone but me-where the doers are kids. These go back a ways-ten, twelve years. We’re talking real youngsters of thirteen or fourteen. No apparent motive. They break into a house, shoot anything that moves-mother, kid, they don’t care, it’s bang, bang, bang.”
“And they’re acting alone?”
“No. With other kids. Older kids. Eighteen, twenty years old. Reason we know, in one of the cases there was a survivor. This was near Elmira-upstate farming area. They missed this terrified thirteen-year-old daughter hiding in a closet. She hears the older ones giving orders: ‘Do it, shoot him,’ stuff like that. ‘That’s how Papa wants it.’”
“‘Papa’? They actually said ‘Papa’?”
“Yeah. So you think, what, European? New immigrants? But the survivor said they sounded American.”
“Was anybody caught?”
“Exactly one guy. He was sixteen, practically a child. He’s on his deathbed with a bullet in his skull. They can’t take it out or his brain comes with it. Lead detective asks him the question on everybody’s minds: Why? Why do you break into a house in the middle of the night and kill everything in sight? His answer? ‘Papa told us to.’
“Detective says, ‘What, your father told you to do this?’ Kid shakes his head and says, ‘Papa.’ It’s the guy’s name. Nobody knows his real name. Doesn’t like to be called anything else. Kid says he teaches them every-thing- from how to rob an ATM to hand-to-hand combat to outdoor survival. Made it sound like a crime school. A crime machine.”
“Robbing ATMs is interesting.”
“I thought you’d like that. Kid died before he could tell us much more.”
“Who shot him?”
“One of his teammates. Apparently he showed hesitation when it came to killing and one of his mentors dropped the hammer on him. Nice, huh?”
“Other than the ATMs, what’s the link with our case up here?”
“Same-type firearm-the Browning HP nine-millimetre.”
“Same make but not the same weapon? That wouldn’t even get you a search warrant up here.”
“I’m losing you,” Mendelsohn said, dabbing at his mouth with the napkin. “Okay, it’s understandable. Here’s what I’m gonna do. What time’s your morning meeting? Eight-thirty, right? Nine o’clock I’ll bring everything in, we’ll go over it together. Is nine okay?”
“Sure. Nine’s good.”
“Rather than try to fill you in on everything over this beautiful meal-thank you for bringing me here, by the way, not everybody would do that for an out-of-towner-rather than talk your ear off right now, why don’t I tomorrow just bring you the stuff I’ve got.”
Cardinal signalled the waiter for the check, but Mendelsohn won the battle to pay it.
When they got out on the street, it was colder than before. The wind had picked up and eddies of snow twirled under the streetlights. Mendelsohn raised the collar of his overcoat-a manoeuvre that made him look like a comic-book PI. He thanked Cardinal again and shook his hand. He got into his car, started it and drove away.
–
When Cardinal got home he pulled his curtains so he wouldn’t have to look at his fogged-up windows. He went to the fridge and got some ice and put it in a glass. He poured a shot of Black Velvet, then added a little more and took it into the living room.
He sat in the recliner that Donna had occupied. He tilted back and thought about his day and about Mendelsohn. He thought too about the things he had to do the next day, the calls he would have to make, the reports he would have to write. He thought about Donna, about whether she would come. And if she did come, what it would mean.
He dozed off. When he woke up, the ice in his glass was gone. It was too early to go to bed and he didn’t feel like reading. He was watching the second half of a nature program when his cellphone rang.
“You’re still up,” Donna said. “I was worried it might be too late.”
“Where are you?”
She was at the front door of his building. He pressed the buzzer and waited for her in the hall. When she came out of the elevator, he said, “Do I look too eager?”
She didn’t answer, but when she reached him she put her arms around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. Snowflakes melted against his cheek. She took a step back, keeping her hands on his waist. “You, sir, are seriously interfering with my concentration.”
When she was inside and he had taken her coat and poured her a drink, he asked her about her day. She sat in his chair again. She took a swallow of whisky, set the glass on the side table and looked at the ceiling for a moment, exposing a column of pale throat. When she looked at him again, she said, “Wouldn’t you rather just fuck me?”
Afterward, when they were lying side by side, the telephone beside the bed rang. Cardinal propped himself on one elbow and checked the caller ID. Delorme. He didn’t pick up.
“Cop’s life, huh?” Donna said. “Lots of late night calls?”
“That wasn’t work.”
“Aha-you exceeded your credit limit again.”
“It was a friend,” Cardinal said. “My best friend, actually.”
“Tell me about him.”
“Another time, maybe.”
She turned on her side and kissed his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to pry. I’m just interested. You can tell a lot about people by their friends. Not that I have any myself.”
“I doubt that.”
She lay back down. She held a strand of golden hair before her eyes, contemplated it for a moment and let it go. “My husband was my best friend. It’s funny-I didn’t think of him that way until he left. It was so painful, I wanted to turn to my best friend and say, ‘Oh, God, this hurts.’ But of course, he wasn’t there to turn to.”
“I’m sure you have other friends.”
She shook her head. “I’m curious about people. I like my work. I like to ask questions. Learn things. But I don’t want them with me at the end of the day. Husbands I get. Lovers I get. But friends…” She turned on her side again. “I’m surprised you have a best friend, actually. I mean, the way you spoke about your wife the other night, I assumed…”
He took hold of her hand and held it up. She had small, neat fingers, the nails clipped short. “Why would your husband leave? It’s hard to believe anybody would be that dumb.”
“Ray was a lot of things, but dumb, no. He just got tired of my being a bitch.”
“Were you a bitch?”
“Definitely.”
Cardinal looked at her. “I suppose I can see the potential.”
She smiled. “I was stupid. He was a very kind man. He looked after me-tried to-didn’t drink a lot, didn’t chase other women, watched over the finances okay. But, I don’t know, somehow he got under my skin and I just had to protest. Naturally, it came out in the worst way.”
“You slept around.”
“Worse. With his best friend.”
