hearing checked lately, Lieutenant?”
“Same goes for those pages he sent you. Man must have been wearing latex gloves when he handled ’em. Which leads me to believe he has a record. We could make him in thirty minutes if he was in our database—like, for example, you are.”
“Told you.”
“Those were some big-time black hole days you had yourself, dude. For damned sure. Drag-racing a member of the New York Mets up Second Avenue at three in the morning, doing ninety miles per.”
“That wasn’t such a big deal.”
“Second Avenue runs downtown, dude.”
“We felt otherwise.”
“You also threw a barstool through the front window of Pete’s Tavern.”
“So?”
“So there was a person on the stool at the time.”
“It was my stool and he wouldn’t get off.”
“And here all along I thought you were civilized.”
“Well, now you know better.”
“I’m liking you more and more, dude.”
“Down, Lieutenant. I’m taken.”
“The typewriter’s an old Olivetti. Tracked that down at a place called Osners. Old lady there is major pissed at you, by the way.”
I cleared my throat. “She is?”
“Said you used to be one of her best customers. Haven’t been around in ages.”
“I suppose I am overdue for a lube.” Good old Mrs. Adelman.
Very paused a moment. “You’re slipping, dude.”
“Am I?”
“Aren’t you going to ask me about the ink?”
“What about the ink, Lieutenant?”
“Came off a ribbon made by General Ribbon Corporation of Chatsworth, California. It’s their universal ribbon, works on every manual typewriter known to man or woman. Their biggest customer is Staples. It’s like their house brand.”
“So we’re talking dead end, in other words.”
“You got that right.”
“How about the envelope? Was that any help?”
“Prints galore on it. Half the fucking postal service touched it. No one who matches anyone in our database, though.”
“Well, that’s comforting to know.”
“Postmark tells us zilch about where he mailed it from. You have it stamped and mailed at the counter of your post office, yes, they put a zip code on it. You stamp it yourself and drop it in a box somewhere like he did, no. All we know is it was mailed somewhere in Manhattan.”
“What about saliva?”
“Saliva?”
“If he licked the envelope shut, wouldn’t there be traces of his saliva on it?”
“What, you think it’ll turn out he just ate some rare kind of salami that’s only sold in one deli on the Lower East Side?”
“Actually, I was thinking more of a DNA test.”
“See? That’s the O.J. thing again. I hate that.”
“The O.J. thing, Lieutenant?”
“Before O.J. you never heard about DNA evidence in normal conversation.”
“Trust me, Lieutenant, this is not my idea of normal conversation.”
“Suddenly everybody’s an expert on blood evidence and how long it takes a cup of ice cream to melt.”
“How long does it take?”
“In answer to your question, dude, our perp sealed the envelope with a moist sponge. And the stamps were self-adhesive. This gee is thorough and he’s careful.”
“Very.”
“What’s that, dude?”
“How about the garment bag?”
“Came from Hold Everything. They got two stores in the city, one out on the Island, two in Jersey, two more in Connecticut. Plus they got a catalog. We’ll be tracking down any credit card sales of that particular item. The only problem is it retails for twenty-eight and change.”
“Meaning he could have paid cash for it.”
“Uh-huh. I also spent some face time with the kid who worked with Diane in the store. Malik Washington, age seventeen. According to Malik, Diane worked late on Monday. Said she had some orders to place. He offered to stick around but she told him to go on home. He left at a few minutes after six. Was home in Brooklyn by seven, according to his grandmother. He don’t remember any gee stopping by just before closing time to buy kibble. Or any particular gee
“Same goes for those pages he sent you. Man must have been wearing latex gloves when he handled ’em. Which leads me to believe he has a record. We could make him in thirty minutes if he was in our database—like, for example, you are.”
“Told you.”
“Those were some big-time black hole days you had yourself, dude. For damned sure. Drag-racing a member of the New York Mets up Second Avenue at three in the morning, doing ninety miles per.”
“That wasn’t such a big deal.”
“Second Avenue runs downtown, dude.”
“We felt otherwise.”
“You also threw a barstool through the front window of Pete’s Tavern.”
“So?”
“So there was a person on the stool at the time.”
“It was my stool and he wouldn’t get off.”
“And here all along I thought you were civilized.”
“Well, now you know better.”
“I’m liking you more and more, dude.”
“Down, Lieutenant. I’m taken.”
“The typewriter’s an old Olivetti. Tracked that down at a place called Osners. Old lady there is major pissed at you, by the way.”
I cleared my throat. “She is?”
“Said you used to be one of her best customers. Haven’t been around in ages.”
“I suppose I am overdue for a lube.” Good old Mrs. Adelman.
Very paused a moment. “You’re slipping, dude.”
“Am I?”
“Aren’t you going to ask me about the ink?”
“What about the ink, Lieutenant?”
“Came off a ribbon made by General Ribbon Corporation of Chatsworth, California. It’s their universal ribbon, works on every manual typewriter known to man or woman. Their biggest customer is Staples. It’s like their house brand.”
“So we’re talking dead end, in other words.”
“You got that right.”
“How about the envelope? Was that any help?”
“Prints galore on it. Half the fucking postal service touched it. No one who matches anyone in our database, though.”
“Well, that’s comforting to know.”
“Postmark tells us zilch about where he mailed it from. You have it stamped and mailed at the counter of your post office, yes, they put a zip code on it. You stamp it yourself and drop it in a box somewhere like he did, no. All we know is it was mailed somewhere in Manhattan.”
“What about saliva?”
“Saliva?”
“If he licked the envelope shut, wouldn’t there be traces of his saliva on it?”
“What, you think it’ll turn out he just ate some rare kind of salami that’s only sold in one deli on the Lower East Side?”
“Actually, I was thinking more of a DNA test.”
“See? That’s the O.J. thing again. I hate that.”
“The O.J. thing, Lieutenant?”
“Before O.J. you never heard about DNA evidence in normal conversation.”
“Trust me, Lieutenant, this is not my idea of normal conversation.”
“Suddenly everybody’s an expert on blood evidence and how long it takes a cup of ice cream to melt.”
“How long does it take?”
“In answer to your question, dude, our perp sealed the envelope with a moist sponge. And the stamps were self-adhesive. This gee is thorough and he’s careful.”
“Very.”
“What’s that, dude?”
“How about the garment bag?”
“Came from Hold Everything. They got two stores in the city, one out on the Island, two in Jersey, two more in Connecticut. Plus they got a catalog. We’ll be tracking down any credit card sales of that particular item. The only problem is it retails for twenty-eight and change.”
“Meaning he could have paid cash for it.”
“Uh-huh. I also spent some face time with the kid who worked with Diane in the store. Malik Washington, age seventeen. According to Malik, Diane worked late on Monday. Said she had some orders to place. He offered to stick around but she told him to go on home. He left at a few minutes after six. Was home in Brooklyn by seven, according to his grandmother. He don’t remember any gee stopping by just before closing time to buy kibble. Or any particular gee
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