In The House Of Secret Enemies

discovered possible leaks on Whalen's staff. The nature of the business makes it all very tentative, but we did find prima facie evidence of industrial espionage and patent violation. What's needed now is a full-blown investigation, but first our evidence must be presented to the grand jury. If it isn't, a lot of time will have been wasted, not to mention the fact that an injustice will have occurred.'

That would have sounded naive-even funny-coming from a lot of cops I know; coming from Garth it didn't.

'Patent law. That sounds like a job for the feds.'

'It is, but some aspects of the case come under our jurisdiction. Besides, we were asked to cooperate. We did the groundwork.'

'Why can't Boise testify?'

'He can and will, but it's a very sticky deal, and the grand jury is going to want to hear corroborative testimony from either one of us. In other words, Boise needs me and I need Boise if we're going to make a case. Do you understand?'

'No. It sounds like a hell of a way to run an investigation.'

'Industrial espionage and patent violations are very difficult things to prove-you'll just have to take my word for that. In any case, I must be at that hearing, and my testimony isn't going to mean much if they have to wheel me in from the psycho ward.'

'I don't buy it, Garth. I saw you back there. You're not going to do anybody any good if you're dead-or if you're responsible for making somebody else dead.'

'That's not going to happen, brother.' Garth's voice was harder now, determined. 'Four days. That's all I need. After that, a long rest. Agreed?'

Actually, there was nothing on which to agree. I couldn't make Garth enter the hospital and he knew it. He was asking for my cooperation-in effect, my approval, my belief that he could control the strange fires in him long enough for him to complete a task he had set for himself

'Most of the work is done?' I asked.

'Right. Now it's mostly just a matter of waiting around for the hearing.'

'Full checkup when it's finished?'

'Full checkup.'

I didn't like it, but I made no move to stop him when he opened the car door and stepped out into the street.

'I'll need my gun, Mongo,' Garth said quietly.

It was true. If Garth would have a tough time testifying from a psychiatrist's couch, he'd have an even tougher time explaining how and why his dwarf brother took his gun and wouldn't give it back. I took the gun out of my jacket pocket and gave it to him.

I hate hospitals. I'd spent too much time in them as a child while doctors struggled to cope with the results of a recessive gene eight generations removed. The hospitals ran through my childhood like trains through a station. I stayed the same.

Now it was my brother, strapped to a bed in a psychiatric ward, too doped up even to recognize me.

I made arrangements to have him transferred to a private room and took a cab down to Garth's precinct station house. MacGregor, Chief of Detectives, was floundering around behind a desk strewn with stacks of coffee- stained papers. He was wearing his usual harried expression.

'What the hell is my brother doing up in Bellevue?'

'Easy, Mongo,' MacGregor said. 'I was the one who called you, remember? How is he?'

'Drugged right up to his eyeballs. I asked you what happened.'

'I'm not sure. We're still trying to sort everything out. Garth called in sick yesterday. He came in this morning to go over some paperwork with Boise. You knew he's been working on a big case?' I nodded. 'Your brother and Boise were having coffee,' MacGregor continued. 'A few minutes later Garth comes out and gets into an argument with Lancey over some little thing. Anyway, your brother wouldn't let it go; he broke Lancey's jaw for him, then he tries to pistol-whip Q.J. Took four guys to get him down. We called the hospital, and then I called you. We're just as anxious to know what happened as you are.' MacGregor leaned forward confidentially. 'He really wigged out, Mongo. You had to be here really to appreciate what he was like. Boise says he's been acting funny for some time now.'

'Is that right? What about the case Garth was working on? The grand jury is supposed to hear it day after tomorrow. What happens now?'

'Nothing. They won't be hearing anything from this department.'

'Why can't the hearing be postponed until Garth is better?'

'Because it wouldn't make any difference. Boise says we don't have a case.'

'Now why would Boise say a thing like that?'

'Ask him.'

I did.

'You know about that?' Boise asked.

'Garth mentioned it to me.'

Boise carefully stirred the coffee in front of him. The sound of the spoon bouncing off the sides of the cup grated on my nerves. 'There was never a case to begin with,' he said evenly. He punctuated the sentence by dropping the spoon on his saucer. 'I hate to be the one to have to tell you this, but this whole affair was a result of paranoia on your brother's part, and that's all.'

'Uh-uh. He wasn't the one who asked to initiate the investigation.'

'No. We were asked to investigate-we did, and found nothing. Everything Zwayle Labs had done was on the up-and-up. They just worked faster and cheaper than the Whalen people. Certainly we found nothing to present to a grand jury. Some circumstantial evidence, a little hearsay, most of which was sour grapes from staff members who hadn't been able to handle the competition within their own departments. Nothing concrete. The evidence just wasn't there.'

'Garth said it was tricky, and you'd have to corroborate each other's testimony.'

Boise had finished his coffee and was signaling for another. 'What can I tell you? Somewhere along the way your brother took a real strong dislike toward the guy who runs Zwayle Labs, a man by the name of Hans Mueller. Don't know why, but that's the way it happened. Guess whatever it was that finally put him away was working on him even then. He swore he'd get Mueller, and he started inventing evidence in his mind to do it.'

The second cup of coffee was served and Boise started clanking around in it with his spoon.

I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. 'Why didn't you tell MacGregor all this before?'

'Because I didn't want what happened to Lancey and Q.J. to happen to me. With me it could have been worse; I was alone with him all day. Besides, Garth's a brother officer. I wasn't about to tell him-or anybody else- that he was crazy. I was hoping he might straighten up after the grand jury shot us down.'

'What's going to happen to him now?'

'They'll probably give him an extended leave of absence.'

'It's more likely he'll lose his shield.'

'Probably,' Boise said, averting his eyes to his coffee. He didn't have to tell me that the camaraderie between police officers did not extend to asking taxpayers to keep a psycho cop on the payroll.

I didn't like it; all of the pieces seemed to fit, but the finished puzzle was ugly, misshapen.

'You mind if I look at the files?'

That stopped the stirring. 'I think I would,' Boise said after a pause, 'and I think MacGregor will back me up. First of all, you're close to calling me a liar. Second, it's not the policy of the New York Police Department to let private citizens-especially private investigators-examine its files.'

I bit off my next remark, rose and turned to go. I was stopped at the door by one of those inspirations I usually know enough to keep to myself. I walked slowly back to the table wearing my innocent, concerned-brother face. It hurt like a mask of nails.

'Mueller. That's a kraut name, isn't it?'

Boise's eyebrows flicked upward. His eyes followed. 'How's that?'