the cops didn’t find them. No one heard the shot. Lots of people heard the glass break.” He pointed accusingly at the empty window frame.
“A twenty-five’s pretty quiet,” Bill said. “Relatively speaking.”
“I think it’s a dumb theory,” I said. “About the private-school kid.”
“I happen to agree with you, but the police don’t. Or at least, they’re refusing to budge until I come clean.”
“Come clean about what?”
“The real reason, of course! Which must be related to my shady profession. They jumped all over me. Like getting shot at was my idea.”
“They wanted to know about your enemies, that sort of thing?”
“Me? Enemies?”
“Oh, right, of course. So what did you tell them?”
“What you’re trying subtly to ask is, did I tell them about the case, about Ghost Hero Chau?”
I nodded, admitting it.
“I would’ve, if I’d had an idea how to say it and not sound like a wackjob. ‘This ghost is painting pictures and two clients want to find them, one who wants them to be real and one who doesn’t. I think one of them, or someone else, or the ghost himself, is responsible for this outrage, Inspector Lestrade.’”
“Works for me,” Bill said.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t think it would work for the Nineteenth Precinct.”
“That’s why you didn’t tell?” I asked.
Jack stopped crisscrossing the room. He stood for a few moments, looking at me. “No.” He threw himself into a chair, legs splayed out, arms dangling. “I didn’t tell because it’s not just my case. Not that I owe you guys anything, but I thought I ought to wait until we talked.”
“We appreciate that,” I said.
“Besides, I’m a private eye. Don’t we have some kind of code? One for all, all for one, none for the cops? Something like that?”
“Something like that,” Bill said.
“Okay. I waited, we’re talking. So what the hell’s going on?”
“I can’t imagine,” I said. “This case is barely started. Are you sure there’s nothing else you’re working on that could’ve—”
I stopped because he was shaking his head. “I don’t have any other open cases. I’d just started this one and all I’ve done is a little research.”
“It doesn’t have to be an open case. It could be an old case, someone you made unhappy who’s been stewing about it and finally decided to get you.”
“This isn’t how art people get you. They’d either have stabbed me with a jeweled dagger in the heat of the moment, or they’d cool down and get all baroque about it. Start rumors about what a stoner I am, what STD’s I have, how I plagarized my Ph.D. thesis. That kind of thing. So they could see it happening. Art people like to watch.”
“What about an old girlfriend?” Bill asked.
“I don’t date girls who carry guns.”
“That seems a little narrow-minded,” I said.
Jack turned to me in surprise. For the first time since we’d arrived, he smiled. “Really?”
Now I shrugged, to cover the fact that I was a little surprised that I’d said that, myself.
“Personally, I consider it sound policy,” Bill elbowed back in. “So look: If this is the case that got you shot at, then what about this case?”
Jack said, “My money’s on you guys.”
“If it’s us,” Bill asked, “why didn’t they shoot at us?”
“That’s a damn good question. Second only to: How do I get them to next time?”
“Look,” I said. “When this kind of thing happens it’s usually because someone’s cage has been rattled.”
“I thought you said this kind of thing never happens.”
“Um, hypothetically. The point is, Bill and I hadn’t rattled anything yet.”
“If you’re asking what I’ve rattled since last night, the answer is also nothing.”
“Last night?”
“When I was hired.”
Reluctantly, I said, “Oh. Well, that makes my theory that it’s you a little shakier, if they could have shot at you any time since last night, but they waited until now.”
“You mean,
“A twenty-five’s pretty quiet,” Bill said. “Relatively speaking.”
“I think it’s a dumb theory,” I said. “About the private-school kid.”
“I happen to agree with you, but the police don’t. Or at least, they’re refusing to budge until I come clean.”
“Come clean about what?”
“The real reason, of course! Which must be related to my shady profession. They jumped all over me. Like getting shot at was my idea.”
“They wanted to know about your enemies, that sort of thing?”
“Me? Enemies?”
“Oh, right, of course. So what did you tell them?”
“What you’re trying subtly to ask is, did I tell them about the case, about Ghost Hero Chau?”
I nodded, admitting it.
“I would’ve, if I’d had an idea how to say it and not sound like a wackjob. ‘This ghost is painting pictures and two clients want to find them, one who wants them to be real and one who doesn’t. I think one of them, or someone else, or the ghost himself, is responsible for this outrage, Inspector Lestrade.’”
“Works for me,” Bill said.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t think it would work for the Nineteenth Precinct.”
“That’s why you didn’t tell?” I asked.
Jack stopped crisscrossing the room. He stood for a few moments, looking at me. “No.” He threw himself into a chair, legs splayed out, arms dangling. “I didn’t tell because it’s not just my case. Not that I owe you guys anything, but I thought I ought to wait until we talked.”
“We appreciate that,” I said.
“Besides, I’m a private eye. Don’t we have some kind of code? One for all, all for one, none for the cops? Something like that?”
“Something like that,” Bill said.
“Okay. I waited, we’re talking. So what the hell’s going on?”
“I can’t imagine,” I said. “This case is barely started. Are you sure there’s nothing else you’re working on that could’ve—”
I stopped because he was shaking his head. “I don’t have any other open cases. I’d just started this one and all I’ve done is a little research.”
“It doesn’t have to be an open case. It could be an old case, someone you made unhappy who’s been stewing about it and finally decided to get you.”
“This isn’t how art people get you. They’d either have stabbed me with a jeweled dagger in the heat of the moment, or they’d cool down and get all baroque about it. Start rumors about what a stoner I am, what STD’s I have, how I plagarized my Ph.D. thesis. That kind of thing. So they could see it happening. Art people like to watch.”
“What about an old girlfriend?” Bill asked.
“I don’t date girls who carry guns.”
“That seems a little narrow-minded,” I said.
Jack turned to me in surprise. For the first time since we’d arrived, he smiled. “Really?”
Now I shrugged, to cover the fact that I was a little surprised that I’d said that, myself.
“Personally, I consider it sound policy,” Bill elbowed back in. “So look: If this is the case that got you shot at, then what about this case?”
Jack said, “My money’s on you guys.”
“If it’s us,” Bill asked, “why didn’t they shoot at us?”
“That’s a damn good question. Second only to: How do I get them to next time?”
“Look,” I said. “When this kind of thing happens it’s usually because someone’s cage has been rattled.”
“I thought you said this kind of thing never happens.”
“Um, hypothetically. The point is, Bill and I hadn’t rattled anything yet.”
“If you’re asking what I’ve rattled since last night, the answer is also nothing.”
“Last night?”
“When I was hired.”
Reluctantly, I said, “Oh. Well, that makes my theory that it’s you a little shakier, if they could have shot at you any time since last night, but they waited until now.”
“You mean,
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