At noon he heard someone try to open the corridor door to the reception room. It was Angeli. Judd could tell nothing from his expression except that he looked even more drawn and haggard. His nose was red, and he was sniffling. He walked into the inner office and wearily flopped into a chair.
“Have you gotten any answers yet on Don Vinton?” Judd asked eagerly.
Angeli nodded. “We got back teletypes from the FBI, the police chiefs of every big city in the United States, and Inter pol.” Judd waited, afraid to breathe. “None of them ever heard of Don Vinton.”
Judd looked at Angeli incredulously, a sudden sinking sensation in his stomach. “But that’s impossible! I mean—someone must know him. A man who could do all this just didn’t come out of nowhere!”
“That’s what McGreavy said,” replied Angeli wearily. “Doctor, my men and I spent the night checking out every Don Vinton in Manhattan and all the other boroughs. We even covered New Jersey and Connecticut.” He took a ruled sheet of paper out of his pocket and showed it to Judd. “W e found eleven Don Vintons in the phone book who spell their name ‘ton’—four who spell it ‘ten’—and two who spell it ‘tin.’ We even tried it as one name. We narrowed it down to five possibles and checked out every one of them. One is a paralytic. One of them is a priest. One is first vice-president of a bank. One of them is a fireman who was on duty when two of the murders occurred. I just left the last one. He runs a pet shop and he must be damn near eighty years old.”
Judd’s throat was dry. He was suddenly aware of how much he had counted on this. Surely Moody wouldn’t have given him the name unless he was certain. And he hadn’t said that Don Vinton was an accomplice; he had said he was behind the whole thing. It was inconceivable that the police would have no record of a man like that. Moody had been murdered because he had gotten onto the truth. And now that Moody was out of the way, Judd was completely alone. The web was drawing tighter.
“I’m sorry,” Angeli said.
Judd looked at the detective and suddenly remembered that Angeli had not been home all night. “I appreciate your trying,” he said gratefully.
Angeli leaned forward. “Are you positive you heard Moody right?”
“Yes.” Judd closed his eyes in concentration. He had asked Moody if he was sure who was really behind this. He heard Moody’s voice again. Dead sure. Have you ever heard of Don Vinton? Don Vinton. He opened his eyes. “Yes,” he repeated.
Angeli sighed. “The n we’re at a dead end.” He laughed mirthlessly. “N o pun intended.” He sneezed.
“You’d better get to bed.”
Angeli stood up. “Yeah. I guess so.”
Judd hesitated. “How long have you been McGreavy’s partner?”
“This is our first case together. Why? “
“Do you think he’s capable of framing me for murder?”
Angeli sneezed again. “ I think maybe you’re right, doctor. I’d better get to bed.” He walked over to the door.
“I may have a lead,” Judd said.
Angeli stopped and turned. “Go on.”
Judd told him about Teri. He added that he was also going to check out some of John Hanson’s former boy friends.
“It doesn’t sound like much,” Angeli said frankly, “but I guess it’s better than nothing.”
“I’m sick and tired of being a target. I’m going to start fighting back. I’m going after them.”
Angeli looked at him. “With what? We’re fighting shadows.”
“When witnesses describe a suspect, the police have an artist draw up a composite picture of all the descriptions. Right?”
Angeli nodded. “An identi-kit.”
Judd began to pace in restless excitement. “I’m going to give you an identi-kit of the personality of the man who’s behind this.”
“How can you? You’ve never seen him. It could be anyone.”
“No it couldn’t,” Judd corrected. “We’re looking for someone very, very special.”
“Someone who’s insane.”
“Insanity is a catchall phrase. It has no medical meaning. Sanity is simply the ability of the mind to adjust to reality. If we can’t adjust, we either hide from reality, or we put our selves above life, where we’re super-beings who don’t have to follow the rules.”