“White with gray interior. There was a small dent above the left
rear tire.”
“I see. Did you say that there were other than just the local cops
there?”
“Oh, yes. Of all things, they were from New York City. They
should have caught this guy. We don’t know why the New York
City police are involved. Do you? Is that really why you’re calling?
You want to pump me for information?”
“No, of course not. This is simply statistical information that we
need.”
“Are there any more questions, Ms. Martin? I’m sorting through
my mother’s things and I have to be down at St. Paul’s charities in
a half hour.”
“No, ma’am. I’m very sorry for your loss. I’ll take care of everything
here.” Sherlock turned to see all eyes focused on her. “The
killer painted a white car black and stole another license plate. The
New York City cops were there. They know. Oh, yeah, the windows
are tinted dark because Mrs. Bailey had sensitive eyes.”
“Son of a bitch,” Hatch said and groped in his pocket for his cigarettes.
“How come nobody told me that the cops knew about that
damned car?”
Adam just gave him a look and said, “They’ve got a real lid on
that one. My guess is they’re keeping it from the Feds, don’t want
to get aced out. And the victim loses. What the New York cops
don’t know is that our killer is here in Maine. Shall we tell them?”
Savich said, “Not the New York cops, but I can call Tellie Haw-ley,
the SAC of the office in New York City. He’ll see that it gets to
where it needs to go.”
“Yeah,” Adam said, “why not? Anyone think of a good reason
why not?”
“How specific should we be?” Becca asked. She was wringing
her hands, and Adam frowned.
Savich rolled it around in his brain and said, “Let’s just tell him
the guy’s been seen on the coast. How’s that? It’s the truth.”
“We’ve got to get him,” Becca said. “If we don’t, then we have
to call this Thomas person who seems to know everyone and direct
everything, and tell him to bring in the Marines.”
“He hasn’t called,” Becca said, and took a bite of her hot dog.
“Why hasn’t he called?”
Adam said as he chewed a potato chip, “I think he’s going to lie
low for a while. He’s not stupid. He’s going to dig in somewhere
else, give you some time to chew your fingernails, make all of us
jumpy as hell, then jump back into the game–his game.”
They were all eating hot dogs with relish and mustard, the team
of guys outside coming in one at a time. Special Agent Rollo
Dempsey said to Adam, “I knew your name but I couldn’t remember
where I’d heard it. Now I do. You saved Senator Dashworth’s
life last year when that crazy tried to stick a knife in his ribs.”
Adam didn’t say a word.
“Yeah, it was you. You saved Senator Dashworth’s life. Pretty impressive.”
“You shouldn’t know about that,” Adam said finally, frowning at
Rollo. “You really shouldn’t.”
202
“Yeah, well, I’m an insider, I can’t help it if people tell me everything.”
“I never heard anything about that,”Becca said, her antennae up.
“What are you talking about?”
Rollo just grinned at her and said, “Did you find out who tried
to off him?”
“You don’t know about that, too?”
“Hey, I’m an insider, but the spigot was off when it came to the
particulars.”
Adam shrugged. “Well, who cares now? The guy who wanted
the senator dead was his son-in-law. Irving–that’s the guy’s
name–had sent him threats, all the usual anonymous bullshit. The
senator called me. It turned out that Irving had become a heroin
addict, didn’t have any more money, and wanted the senator’s inheritance.
The senator managed to keep it from the media, to protect
his daughter, and so we got the guy into a sanatorium, where
he belonged, where he’s still at. I guess there are only a few insiders
who know anything at all about it.”
“You run some sort of a bodyguard business?” Becca said,
frowning at Adam over a spoonful of baked beans. “I thought you