The Anderson Tapes by Lawrence Sanders
Authors: Lawrence Sanders
Tags: Fiction, Suspense, Mystery & Detective, Mystery, Mystery Fiction, Police, Police Procedural, Large Type Books, New York, New York (State), New York (N.Y.), Men's Adventure, Delaney, Edward X. (Fictitious Character)
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hell with Brevoort and the New Urban Reorganization Committee. Either way, you and I are out of it; we’ll leave it up to Walsh.
RYAN: Yeah. That’s smart.
CYNTHIA: All right. I’ll hang up now and call Walsh. I’ll call you back in a few minutes and tell you what he said.
RYAN: I’ll be here.
Chapter 19
Approximately 10:48 A.M., 3 June, 1968.
CYNTHIA: Doorman? This is Ruth David again.
RYAN: Yeah. You talk to Mr. Walsh?
CYNTHIA: Yes. He said it was perfectly all right. He knows this New Urban Reorganization Committee. He says it’s okay to give Brevoort the names of tenants. Also, he can talk to any tenants who voluntarily agree. But you ask them first on the intercom.
Don’t let Brevoort wander around the house. And make sure he comes down to the lobby after every interview.
RYAN: Don’t worry, Miss David. I know how to handle it.
CYNTHIA: Good. Well, that’s a load off my mind. I didn’t want to take the responsibility.
RYAN: I didn’t neither.
CYNTHIA: Mr. Walsh said to tell you that you did exactly right, making Brevoort call us. He said to tell you he won’t forget how you handled this.
RYAN: Yeah. Fine. Okay, then I’ll talk to Brevoort. Thanks for calling, Miss David.
CYNTHIA: Thank you, sir.
Chapter 20
Transcription from tape SEC-3JUN68-IM-01:48-PM142C. Premises of Ingrid Macht, 627 West Twenty-fourth Street, New York.
INGRID: Come in, Schatzie .
ANDERSON: Glasses? You’re wearing glasses now?
INGRID: For perhaps a year. Only for reading. You like them?
ANDERSON: Yes. You’re doing something?
INGRID: I am just finishing my breakfast. I slept late today. Coffee?
ANDERSON: All right. Black.
[Lapse of one minute thirteen seconds.]
INGRID: A little brandy perhaps?
ANDERSON: Fine. You join me?
INGRID: Thank you, no. I will take a sip of yours.
ANDERSON: Then you’ll tell me I drink too much, and meanwhile you’re sipping half my booze.
INGRID: Oh, Schatzie , when did I ever tell you that you drank too much? When did I ever criticize anything you do?
ANDERSON: Never … that I can remember. I was just kidding you.
Don’t be so serious. You have no sense of humor.
INGRID: That is true. Is something bothering you?
ANDERSON: No. Why?
INGRID: You have a look I recognize. Something in your eyes—
faraway. You are thinking very hard about something. Do I guess right?
ANDERSON: Maybe.
INGRID: Please do not tell me. I want to know absolutely nothing. I do not wish to go through all that again. You understand?
ANDERSON: Sure. Sit on my lap. No … leave your glasses on.
INGRID: You do like them?
ANDERSON: Yes. When I was down South I had an idea of what a big-city woman was like. I could see her. Very thin. Not too tall. Hard.
Bony. Open eyes. Pale lips. And heavy, black-rimmed glasses.
INGRID: A strange dream for a man to have. Usually it is a sweet, plump little blonde with big tits.
ANDERSON: Well, that was my dream. And long, straight black hair that hung to her waist.
INGRID: I have a wig like that.
ANDERSON: I know. I gave it to you.
INGRID: So you did, S chatzie . I had forgotten. Shall I put it on?
ANDERSON: Yes.
[Lapse of four minutes fourteen seconds.]
INGRID: So. Am I now your dream?
ANDERSON: Close. Very close. Sit here again.
INGRID: And what have you brought me today, Duke … another cigarette lighter?
ANDERSON: No. I brought you a hundred dollars.
INGRID: That is nice. I like money.
ANDERSON: I know. More stocks?
INGRID: Of course. I have been doing very well. My broker tells me I have an instinct for trading.
ANDERSON: I could have told him that. Am I hurting you?
INGRID: No. Perhaps we should go into the bedroom.
[Lapse of two minutes thirty-four seconds.]
INGRID: You are thinner … and harder. This scar … you told me once but I have forgotten.
ANDERSON: Knife fight.
INGRID: Did you kill him?
ANDERSON: Yes.
INGRID: Why did you fight?
ANDERSON: I forget. At the time it seemed important. Do you want me to give you the money
RYAN: Yeah. That’s smart.
CYNTHIA: All right. I’ll hang up now and call Walsh. I’ll call you back in a few minutes and tell you what he said.
RYAN: I’ll be here.
Chapter 19
Approximately 10:48 A.M., 3 June, 1968.
CYNTHIA: Doorman? This is Ruth David again.
RYAN: Yeah. You talk to Mr. Walsh?
CYNTHIA: Yes. He said it was perfectly all right. He knows this New Urban Reorganization Committee. He says it’s okay to give Brevoort the names of tenants. Also, he can talk to any tenants who voluntarily agree. But you ask them first on the intercom.
Don’t let Brevoort wander around the house. And make sure he comes down to the lobby after every interview.
RYAN: Don’t worry, Miss David. I know how to handle it.
CYNTHIA: Good. Well, that’s a load off my mind. I didn’t want to take the responsibility.
RYAN: I didn’t neither.
CYNTHIA: Mr. Walsh said to tell you that you did exactly right, making Brevoort call us. He said to tell you he won’t forget how you handled this.
RYAN: Yeah. Fine. Okay, then I’ll talk to Brevoort. Thanks for calling, Miss David.
CYNTHIA: Thank you, sir.
Chapter 20
Transcription from tape SEC-3JUN68-IM-01:48-PM142C. Premises of Ingrid Macht, 627 West Twenty-fourth Street, New York.
INGRID: Come in, Schatzie .
ANDERSON: Glasses? You’re wearing glasses now?
INGRID: For perhaps a year. Only for reading. You like them?
ANDERSON: Yes. You’re doing something?
INGRID: I am just finishing my breakfast. I slept late today. Coffee?
ANDERSON: All right. Black.
[Lapse of one minute thirteen seconds.]
INGRID: A little brandy perhaps?
ANDERSON: Fine. You join me?
INGRID: Thank you, no. I will take a sip of yours.
ANDERSON: Then you’ll tell me I drink too much, and meanwhile you’re sipping half my booze.
INGRID: Oh, Schatzie , when did I ever tell you that you drank too much? When did I ever criticize anything you do?
ANDERSON: Never … that I can remember. I was just kidding you.
Don’t be so serious. You have no sense of humor.
INGRID: That is true. Is something bothering you?
ANDERSON: No. Why?
INGRID: You have a look I recognize. Something in your eyes—
faraway. You are thinking very hard about something. Do I guess right?
ANDERSON: Maybe.
INGRID: Please do not tell me. I want to know absolutely nothing. I do not wish to go through all that again. You understand?
ANDERSON: Sure. Sit on my lap. No … leave your glasses on.
INGRID: You do like them?
ANDERSON: Yes. When I was down South I had an idea of what a big-city woman was like. I could see her. Very thin. Not too tall. Hard.
Bony. Open eyes. Pale lips. And heavy, black-rimmed glasses.
INGRID: A strange dream for a man to have. Usually it is a sweet, plump little blonde with big tits.
ANDERSON: Well, that was my dream. And long, straight black hair that hung to her waist.
INGRID: I have a wig like that.
ANDERSON: I know. I gave it to you.
INGRID: So you did, S chatzie . I had forgotten. Shall I put it on?
ANDERSON: Yes.
[Lapse of four minutes fourteen seconds.]
INGRID: So. Am I now your dream?
ANDERSON: Close. Very close. Sit here again.
INGRID: And what have you brought me today, Duke … another cigarette lighter?
ANDERSON: No. I brought you a hundred dollars.
INGRID: That is nice. I like money.
ANDERSON: I know. More stocks?
INGRID: Of course. I have been doing very well. My broker tells me I have an instinct for trading.
ANDERSON: I could have told him that. Am I hurting you?
INGRID: No. Perhaps we should go into the bedroom.
[Lapse of two minutes thirty-four seconds.]
INGRID: You are thinner … and harder. This scar … you told me once but I have forgotten.
ANDERSON: Knife fight.
INGRID: Did you kill him?
ANDERSON: Yes.
INGRID: Why did you fight?
ANDERSON: I forget. At the time it seemed important. Do you want me to give you the money
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