Norm. Not a damned bit. We already know Carstairs wasn't infallible. And there were other anomalies."
"Ooh, college words. Like what?"
"A washer and dryer. And water heater."
"That's a crime?"
"When the rest of the house is so old-fashioned?"
"No, now hang on, John. You might think you've got to have a telephone, radio, and TV, but somebody who grew up without wouldn't. The stuff she's got is practical. And she had an icebox. I mean refrigerator. You take a bushman out of the Kalahari, offer him one modern appliance he could take back, I bet you he'd want a refrigerator…"
"Okay. Okay. So that explains some of it. Maybe. But not where she gets the money."
"You're bound and determined to nail her for something, aren't you?"
That was an aspect he kept worrying about himself, though, technically, it did not relate to their case. "Look into it if you want. Go down to the IRS. Maybe they've got something."
"If they'll let me have it." They swung into the station lot. "But they've probably never heard of her."
"Take care of the car, hear? I'll haul the doll upstairs."
"Got one for you, Beth," Cash said, opening the door with his rear while keeping both hands on the doll.
"What?"
"Print evidence. Lab stuff. Want to take it to them for me? Okay? You got a box, or something?"
"Kleenex box okay?" She fished one from her wastebasket.
"Fine. Anything. Give it to George, all right?"
"Special?"
"The Groloch thing."
"Your wife left a message. I put it on your desk. I'll take this over while I'm remembering it."
He studied her behind as she left. Not bad. Someday he might give that a try… He returned to his desk.
His
In
tray had had a litter in his absence. It was all routine stuff that could have been handled by a semiliterate, patient chimp. Mostly revenue-sharing record-keeping that no one would ever look at once it left his
Out
tray.
Cash got less done than the chimp would have. His mind refused to stay off Jack O'Brien, Miss Groloch, and the certainty of Sister Mary Joseph. Somehow, something had to add up. But it just would not.
The puzzle of Miss Groloch was, more and more, displacing that of O'Brien's death.
And the clock kept capturing his eye. Beth had left the memo, in purple ballpoint, square in the middle of his blotter.
Norm
(in wide, looping script): Annie says she went ahead. A man from
the Relocation Board will visit you tonight. Try to get home early.
Beth
P.S. I guess this is a surprise.
It was. Despite her talk, he had expected Annie to fold.
While he was trying to make up his mind whether or not to leave right away, a voice said, "You've done it this time, Cash." Lieutenant Railsback appeared before his desk.
"You look like Rip Van Winkle the day he woke up. What's happening?"
"Your china doll. They got a print off it. Already. Right thumb."
"No."
"Yes."
They stared at one another. All Cash could think was that this was impossible. But if it were true, there was a hole in Miss Groloch's defenses. She had made a mistake.
"Hank, I saw that doll come out of her wardrobe. I can't
prove
it, but it sure as hell
looked
like it'd been in there for years." He recalled impressions of being manipulated. Had the old woman known they would find a matching print? Was she mocking them? No. That would mean too much attention. She wouldn't want that. "The tissue paper…"
"I already told them to work on it. Told them to run every test they could think of, and to go to FBI if they had to." He dragged a chair up to Cash's desk, flopped in. "There's got to be a hole. Somewhere, there's got to be a hole. Or we're up against a Fu Manchu."
"Uhm. You remember Doc Savage?"
"The old man never let me read that crap. So I read his after he goes to sleep now. Yeah, I know him. Even went to the movie. Too campy. What about him?"
"Just think it'd be nice if we could put
"Ooh, college words. Like what?"
"A washer and dryer. And water heater."
"That's a crime?"
"When the rest of the house is so old-fashioned?"
"No, now hang on, John. You might think you've got to have a telephone, radio, and TV, but somebody who grew up without wouldn't. The stuff she's got is practical. And she had an icebox. I mean refrigerator. You take a bushman out of the Kalahari, offer him one modern appliance he could take back, I bet you he'd want a refrigerator…"
"Okay. Okay. So that explains some of it. Maybe. But not where she gets the money."
"You're bound and determined to nail her for something, aren't you?"
That was an aspect he kept worrying about himself, though, technically, it did not relate to their case. "Look into it if you want. Go down to the IRS. Maybe they've got something."
"If they'll let me have it." They swung into the station lot. "But they've probably never heard of her."
"Take care of the car, hear? I'll haul the doll upstairs."
"Got one for you, Beth," Cash said, opening the door with his rear while keeping both hands on the doll.
"What?"
"Print evidence. Lab stuff. Want to take it to them for me? Okay? You got a box, or something?"
"Kleenex box okay?" She fished one from her wastebasket.
"Fine. Anything. Give it to George, all right?"
"Special?"
"The Groloch thing."
"Your wife left a message. I put it on your desk. I'll take this over while I'm remembering it."
He studied her behind as she left. Not bad. Someday he might give that a try… He returned to his desk.
His
In
tray had had a litter in his absence. It was all routine stuff that could have been handled by a semiliterate, patient chimp. Mostly revenue-sharing record-keeping that no one would ever look at once it left his
Out
tray.
Cash got less done than the chimp would have. His mind refused to stay off Jack O'Brien, Miss Groloch, and the certainty of Sister Mary Joseph. Somehow, something had to add up. But it just would not.
The puzzle of Miss Groloch was, more and more, displacing that of O'Brien's death.
And the clock kept capturing his eye. Beth had left the memo, in purple ballpoint, square in the middle of his blotter.
Norm
(in wide, looping script): Annie says she went ahead. A man from
the Relocation Board will visit you tonight. Try to get home early.
Beth
P.S. I guess this is a surprise.
It was. Despite her talk, he had expected Annie to fold.
While he was trying to make up his mind whether or not to leave right away, a voice said, "You've done it this time, Cash." Lieutenant Railsback appeared before his desk.
"You look like Rip Van Winkle the day he woke up. What's happening?"
"Your china doll. They got a print off it. Already. Right thumb."
"No."
"Yes."
They stared at one another. All Cash could think was that this was impossible. But if it were true, there was a hole in Miss Groloch's defenses. She had made a mistake.
"Hank, I saw that doll come out of her wardrobe. I can't
prove
it, but it sure as hell
looked
like it'd been in there for years." He recalled impressions of being manipulated. Had the old woman known they would find a matching print? Was she mocking them? No. That would mean too much attention. She wouldn't want that. "The tissue paper…"
"I already told them to work on it. Told them to run every test they could think of, and to go to FBI if they had to." He dragged a chair up to Cash's desk, flopped in. "There's got to be a hole. Somewhere, there's got to be a hole. Or we're up against a Fu Manchu."
"Uhm. You remember Doc Savage?"
"The old man never let me read that crap. So I read his after he goes to sleep now. Yeah, I know him. Even went to the movie. Too campy. What about him?"
"Just think it'd be nice if we could put
Similar Books
