"Your wife's still in the East Village."

"Huh?"

"St. Marks Place. She's still living there."

"Oh. Right."

"Any kids?"

"No."

"Makes it easier."

"I guess so."

"My wife and sons are out on Long Island. I'm in a hotel on Fifty-seventh Street."

He nodded, understanding. People move and their lives change. He'd wound up guarding cashmere sweaters. I'd wound up doing whatever it is I do. Looking in a coal mine for a black cat, according to Antonelli. Looking for a cat that wasn't even there.

Chapter 10

When I got back to my hotel there was a message from Lynn London. I called her from the pay phone in the lobby and explained who I was and what I wanted.

She said, "My father hired you? It's funny he didn't say anything to me. I thought they had the man who killed my sister. Why would he suddenly-well, let's let it ride for now. I don't know what help I could be."

I said I'd like to meet with her to talk about her sister.

"Not tonight," she said briskly. "I just got back from the mountains a couple of hours ago. I'm exhausted and I've got to do my lesson plans for the week."

"Tomorrow?"

"I teach during the day. I've got a dinner date and I'm going to a concert after that. Tuesday's my group therapy night. Maybe Wednesday? That's not terribly good for me either. Hell."

"Maybe we could-"

"Maybe we could handle it over the phone? I don't really know very much, Mr. Scudder, and God knows I'm beat at the moment, but perhaps I could deal with, say, ten minutes' worth of questions right now, because otherwise I honestly don't know when we could get together. I don't really know very much, it was a great many years ago and-"

"When do you finish your classes tomorrow afternoon?"

"Tomorrow afternoon? We dismiss the children at three fifteen, but-"

"I'll meet you at your apartment at four."

"I told you. I have a dinner date tomorrow."

"And a concert after it. I'll meet you at four. I won't take that much of your time."

She wasn't thrilled, but that's how we left it. I spent another dime and called Jan Keane. I recapped the day and she told me she was in awe of my industriousness. "I don't know," I said. "Sometimes I think I'm just putting in time. I could have accomplished the same thing today with a couple of phone calls."

"We could have handled our business over the phone last night," she said. "As far as that goes."

"I'm glad we didn't."

"So am I," she said. "I think. On the other hand, I was planning on working today and I couldn't even look at clay. I'm just hoping this hangover wears off by bedtime."

"I had a clear head this morning."

"Mine's just beginning to clear now. Maybe my mistake was staying in the house. The sun might have burned off some of the fog. Now I'm just sitting around until it's a reasonable hour to go to sleep."

There might have been an unspoken invitation in that last sentence. I probably could have invited myself over. But I was already home, and a short and quiet evening had its appeal. I told her I'd wanted to say how I'd enjoyed her company and that I'd call her.

"I'm glad you called," she said. "You're a sweet man, Matthew." A pause, and then she said, "I've been thinking about it. He probably did it."

"He?"

"Doug Ettinger. He probably killed her."

"Why?"

"I don't know why. People always have motives to kill their spouses, don't they? There was never a day when I didn't have a reason to kill Eddie."

"I meant why do you think he did it."

"Oh. What I was thinking, I was thinking how devious you would have to be to kill someone and imitate another murder. And I realized what a devious man he was, what a sneak. He could plan something like that."

"That's interesting."

"Listen, I don't have any special knowledge. But it's what I was thinking earlier. And now he's doing what? Selling sporting goods? Is that what you said?"

I sat in my room and read for a while, then had dinner around the corner at Armstrong's. I stayed there for a couple of hours but didn't have very much to drink. The crowd was a light one, as it usually is on a Sunday. I talked to a few people but mostly sat alone and let the events of the past two days thread their way in and out of my consciousness.

I made it an early night, walked down to Eighth Avenue for the early edition of Monday's News. Went back to my room, read the paper, took a shower. Looked at myself in the mirror. Thought about shaving, decided to wait until morning.

Had a nightcap, a short one. Went to bed.

I was deep in a dream when the phone rang. I was running in the dream, chasing someone or being chased, and I sat up in bed with my heart pounding.

The phone was ringing. I reached out, answered it.

A woman said, "Why don't you let the dead bury the dead?"

"Who is this?"

"Leave the dead alone. Let the dead stay buried."

"Who is this?"

A click. I turned on a light and looked at my watch. It was around one thirty. I'd been sleeping an hour, if that.

Who had called me? It was a voice I'd heard before but I couldn't place it. Lynn London? I didn't think so.

I got out of bed, flipped pages in my notebook, picked up the phone again. When the hotel operator came on I read off a number to him. He put the call through and I listened as it rang twice.

A woman answered it. Same woman who'd just told me to leave the dead alone. I'd heard her voice once before that, and remembered it now.

I had nothing to say to her that wouldn't wait a day or two. Without saying anything, I replaced the receiver and went back to bed.

Chapter 11

After breakfast the next day I called Charles London's office. He hadn't come in yet. I gave my name and said I'd call later.

I spent another dime calling Frank Fitzroy at the Eighteenth Precinct. "Scudder," I said. "Where are they holding Pinell?"

"They had him downtown. Then I think they shunted him out to Rikers Island. Why?"

"I'd like to see him. What are my chances?"

"Not good."

"You could go out there," I suggested. "I could just be a fellow officer along for the ride."

"I don't know, Matt."

"You'd get something for your time."

"That's not it. Believe me. Thing is, this fucker fell in our laps and I'd hate to see him walk on a technicality. We ring in an unauthorized visitor and his lawyer gets wind of it and gets a wild hair up his ass and it could screw up the whole case. You follow me?"

"It doesn't seem very likely."

"Maybe not, but it's a chance I'm in no rush to take. What do you want from him, anyway?"

"I don't know."

"Maybe I could ask him a question or two for you. Assuming I could get to see him, which I'm not sure I could. His lawyer may have cut off the flow. But if you've got a specific question-"

I was in the phone booth in my hotel lobby and someone was knocking on the door. I told Frank to hang on for a second and opened the door a crack. It was Vinnie, the desk man, to tell me I had a call. I asked who it was and he said it was a woman and she hadn't given her name. I wondered if it was the same one who'd called last night.

I told him to switch it to the house phone and I'd take it in a minute. I uncovered the mouthpiece of the phone I was holding and told Frank I couldn't think of anything in particular that I wanted to ask Louis Pinell, but that I'd keep his offer in mind. He asked if I was getting anyplace with my investigation.

"I don't know," I said. "It's hard to tell. I'm putting in the hours."

"Giving what's-his-name his money's worth. London."

"I suppose so. I have a feeling most of it is wasted motion."

"It's always that way, isn't it? There's days when I figure I must waste ninety percent of my time. But you have to do that to come up with the ten percent that's not a waste."

"That's a point."

"Even if you could see Pinell, that'd be part of the wasted ninety percent. Don't you think?"

"Probably."

I finished up with him, went over to the desk and picked up the house phone. It was Anita.

She said, "Matt? I just wanted to tell you that the check came."

"That's good. I'm sorry it's not more."

"It came at a good time."

I sent money for her and the boys when I had it to send. She never called just to say it had arrived.

I asked how the boys were.

"They're fine," she said. "Of course they're in school now."

"Of course."

"I guess it's been a while since you've seen them."

I felt a little red pinprick of anger. Had she called just to tell me that? Just to push a little guilt button? "I'm on a case," I said. "Soon as it's finished, whenever that is, maybe they can come in and we'll catch a game at the Garden. Or a boxing match."

"They'd like that."

"So would I." I thought of Jan, relieved that her kids were on the other side of the country, relieved she didn't have to visit them anymore, and guilty over her relief. "I'd like that very much," I said.

"Matt, the reason I called-"

"Yes?"

"Oh, God," she said. She sounded sad and tired. "It's Bandy," she said.

"Bandy?"

"The dog. You remember Bandy."

"Of course. What about him?"

"Oh, it's sad," she said. "The vet said he ought to be put to sleep. He said there's really nothing to be done for him at this point."

"Oh," I said. "Well, I suppose if that's what has to be done-"

"I already had him put to sleep. On Friday."

"Oh."

"I guess I thought you would want to know."

"Poor Bandy," I said. "He must have been twelve years old."

"He was fourteen."

"I didn't realize he was that old. That's a long life for a dog."

"It's supposed to be the equivalent of ninety-eight for a human being."

"What was the matter with him?"

"The vet said he just wore out. His kidneys were in bad shape. And he was almost blind. You knew that, didn't you?"

"No."

"For the past year or two his eyesight was failing. It was so sad, Matt. The boys sort of lost interest in him. I think that was the saddest part. They loved him when they were younger but they grew up and he got old and they lost interest." She started to cry. I stood there and held the phone to my ear and didn't say anything.

She said, "I'm sorry, Matt."

"Don't be silly."

"I called you because I wanted to tell somebody and who else could I tell? Do you remember when we got him?"

"I remember."

"I wanted to call him Bandit because of his facial markings, his mask. You said something about give-a-dog-a-bad-name, but we were already calling him Bandy. So we decided it was short for Bandersnatch."

"From Alice in Wonderland."

"The vet said he didn't feel anything. He just went to sleep. He took care of disposing of the body for me."