Ed McBain - Lullaby

'And that's where the million-dollar trust would go.'

Both men continued reading in silence.

All the rest, residue and remainder of my estate, of whatsoever nature and wheresoever situated, which I may own or to which I may in any way be entitled at the time of my death, including any lapses or renounced legacies or devises, is referred to in this, my will, as my residuary estate.

'Defining his terms,' Carella said.

'The rest of his estate.'

'Millions of dollars, isn't that what she said?'

I give, devise and bequeath any residuary estate in equal shares to my daughters living at my death . . .

'Just what she told us.'

... or if a said daughter shall predecease me ...

'Here comes the motive for Joyce's murder . . .'

. . . then I give, devise and bequeath all of my residuary estate to my then surviving daughter.

'Kill Joyce and Melissa gets it all,' Carella said.

'Love or money,' Meyer said and sighed. 'It never changes.'

There was more to the will.

But they already had all they needed.

And the phone was ringing again.

* * * *

There were no windows in the room.

This was the first time Eileen noticed it.

Neither was there a clock.

Must be Las Vegas, she thought.

'Something?' Karin asked.

'No.'

'You were smiling.'

'Private joke,' Eileen said.

'Share it with me.'

'No, that's okay.'

She was wearing a digital watch. Nothing ticked into the silence of the room. She wondered how many minutes were left. She wondered what the hell she was doing here.

'Let's play some word games,' Karin said.

'Why?'

'Free association. Loosen you up.'

'I'm loose.'

'It's like snowballing. Cartoonists use it a lot.'

'So do cops,' Eileen said.

'Oh?'

'In a squadroom. You take an idea and run with it,' she said, suspecting Karin already knew this. If so, why the expression of surprise? She wished she trusted her. But she didn't. Couldn't shake the feeling that to Karin Lefkowitz, she was nothing but a specimen on a slide.

'Want to try it?'

'We don't have much time left, do we?'

Hoping she was right. Not wanting to look at her watch.

'Twenty minutes, anyway,' Karin said.

Christ, that long?.

'I'll give you a word, and you give me the first word that pops into your head, okay?'

'You know,' Eileen said, 'I really don't enjoy playing games. I'm a grown woman.'

'Yes, so am I.'

'So why don't we just skip it, okay?'

'Sure. We can skip the whole damn thing, if you like.'

Eileen looked at her.

'I think we're wasting each other's time,' Karin said flatly. 'You have nothing to say to me, and if you don't say anything, then I can't help you. So maybe we ought to . . .'

'The only help I need . . .'

'Yes, I know. Is quitting the force.'

'Yes.'

'Well, I don't think I can help you do that.'

'Why not?'

'Because I don't think it's what you really want.'

'Then why the hell am I here?'

'You tell me.'

Eileen folded her arms across her chest.

'Here comes the body posture again,' Karin said. 'Look, I really don't think you're ready for this. I don't know why you came to me in the first place ...'

'I told you. Sam Grossman sugg . . .'

'Yes, and you thought it was a good idea. So here you are, and you have nothing to tell me. So why don't we call it a day, huh?'

'You want to quit, huh?'

'Just for now, yes. If you change your mind later . . .'

'Too bad I can't quit just for now, huh?'

'What do you mean?'

'The force. Leaving police work is forever.'

'Why do you say that?'

'Come on, willya?'

'I really don't know why you feel . . .'

'Don't you ever talk to cops? What do you do here? Talk to architects? Bankers? I mean, for Christ's sake, don't you know how cops think?

'How do they think, Eileen? Tell me.'

'If I quit now . . .' She shook her head.

'Yes?'

'Never mind, fuck it.'

'Okay,' Karin said, and looked at her watch. 'We've got fifteen minutes left. Have you seen any good movies lately?'

'I just don't like having to explain the simplest goddamn things to you!'

'Like what?'

'Like what everyone would think if I quit!'

'What would they think?'

'And why it would be impossible to . . .'

'What would they think, Eileen?'

'That I'm scared, goddamn it!'

'Are you?'

'I told you I was, didn't I? How would you like to get raped?'

'I wouldn't.'

'But try to explain that to anyone.'

'Who do you mean?'

'People I've worked with. I've worked with cops all over this city.'

'Men?'

'Women, too.'

'Well, surely the women would understand why you'd be afraid of getting raped again.'

'Some of them might not. You get a certain kind of woman with a gun on her hip, she's sometimes worse than a man.'

'But most women would understand, don't you think?'

'I guess so. Well, Annie would. Annie Rawles. She'd understand.'

'Rape Squad, isn't that what you told me?'

'Annie, yeah. She's terrific'

'So who do you think might not understand? Men?'

'I've never heard of a man getting raped, have you? Except in prison? Most cops haven't been in prison.'

'Then it's cops you're worried about. Men cops. You don't think they'd understand, is that it?'

'You should work with some of these guys,' Eileen said.

'Well, if you quit, you wouldn't have to work with them anymore.'

'And they'd run all over the city saying I couldn't cut it.'

'Is that important to you?'

'I'm a good cop,' Eileen said.

'Was.'

'Well, you haven't quit yet. So you're still a cop.'

'But not a good one.'

'Has anyone said that to you?'

'Not to my face.'

'Do you think anyone has said that behind your back?'

'Who cares?'

'Well, you do, don't you?'

'Not if they think I'm scared.'

'But you are scared. You told me you were scared.'

'I know I am.'

'So what's wrong with that?'

'I'm a cop.'

'Do you think cops aren't scared?'

'Not the way I'm scared.'

'How scared are you, Eileen? Can you tell me?'

She was silent for a long time.

Then she said, 'I have nightmares. Every night.'

'About the rape?'

'Yes. About giving him my gun. He has the knife to my throat, and I give him my gun. Both guns. The thirty-eight and the little backup pistol. The Browning. I give him both guns.'

'Is that what happened in reality?'

'Yes. But he raped me, anyway. I thought . . .'

'Yes?'

'I don't know what I thought. I guess that . . . that if I ... I cooperated, then he ... he wouldn't cut me . . . wouldn't rape me. But he did.'

'Cut you. And raped you.'

'So fucking helpless? Eileen said. 'A cop!'

'What did he look like, do you remember?'

'It was dark.'

'But you saw him, didn't you?'

'And raining. It was raining.'

'But what did he look like?'

'I don't remember. He grabbed me from behind.'

'But surely, when he . . .'

'I don't remember.'

'Did you see him after that night?'

'Yes.'

'When?'

'At the trial'

'What was his name?'

'Arthur Haines. Annie made the collar.'

'Did you identify him at the trial?'

'Yes. But . . .'

'Well, what did he look like?'

'In the dream, he has no face.'

'But while he was raping you, he had a face.'

'Yes.'

'And at the trial, he had a face.'

'Yes.'

'Which you identified.'

'Yes.'

'What did he look like, Eileen?'

'Tall. Six feet. A hundred and eighty pounds. Brown hair and blue eyes.'