Ed McBain - Killer's Choice

'What did she say?'

'She said, "I need a rest, Ted. Everybody has to rest every now and then." Well, she got her rest.'

'I should imagine, if what you said was accurate, that she'd had enough of a rest. Being cooped up with the child, I mean.'

'Yes,' Boone said. 'That's what I would have thought.' He dropped his cigarette to the floor and stepped on it.

'Then why'd she take those jobs?'

'I don't know.'

'Did you argue much, Mr Boone? When you were married to her?'

'The usual. You know how marriage is.'

'Once a week? Twice a week?'

'Oh, I don't know. I never kept count. You know how marriage is. Two people get on each other's nerves every now and then. So an argument starts. I never kept count.'

'Would you say you were happily married?'

Boone hesitated. At last he said, 'No.'

'Why not?'

'I guess… I guess I wasn't enough for Annie.'

'Were there any other men in her life?'

'No. You don't think they'd have given her custody of the child if there were, do you?'

'And you? Another woman?'

'No. Annie was enough for me.'

'But you weren't enough for her?'

'No.'

'And yet, there were no other men?'

'No. None that I know of. Adultery was never an issue. We couldn't have got a divorce in this state if we'd wanted to.'

'Did you want custody of the child?'

'No. Not at the time of the divorce. I didn't want anything to remind me of Annie.'

'Because you loved her so much?'

'Yes. After a while, I realized I was behaving stupidly. I sought her out. Her and Monica. I went to see them. My daughter loves me, Mr Kling. I've got a good relationship with my daughter. I want her to live with me. I can give her things the Bag can never give her. The Bag's holding her illegally. The courts awarded that child to Annie, not to my mother-in-law. She's holding her illegally, and if the goddamn courts weren't so slow, I'd have Monica now .'

'You said you didn't want Monica at first, is that right?'

'Yes.'

'And you loved Annie very much?'

'Very much.'

'Tell me, Mr Boone. When you were divorced, did you ever think there was any chance of you and Annie getting together again?'

'In the beginning, I did.'

'For how long?'

'Six months or so. I kept thinking she'd call me. Especially when I found out she'd got a job selling furniture. I kept thinking she'd call me and try to patch it up. For about six months, I kept hoping that.'

'She didn't call.'

'No.'

'And during this time, you made no attempt to see either her or Monica, is that right?'

'That's right.'

'When did you see Monica again? After the divorce, I mean.'

'About six or seven months after the divorce.'

'Did you ever ask Annie for custody of the child?'

'Well… yes.'

'And?'

'She refused. She felt the child's place was with her mother.'

'I see. Did you ever try to do anything about it legally?'

'I consulted a lawyer. He said the courts had awarded the child to Annie, and that was it.'

'There was no chance, then, of your gaining legal possession of the child.'

'Well, there is now. The Bag has no claim to her. After all, she's my daughter.'

'Yes, now there's a possibility. I didn't mean that, Mr Boone. I meant, while Annie was alive.'

'Oh. No, no. While Annie was alive, I couldn't have the child. I could visit her, of course, and she could spend time with me. I had her for a month every now and then. But I couldn't have her with me all the time. No. Not while Annie was alive. Things are different now. I'll fight the Bag if it takes every cent I've got.'

Kling sighed. 'When was the last time you saw Annie, Mr Boone?'

'About three weeks ago.'

'What was the occasion?'

'I went to see Monica. Annie happened to be home. Usually, I tried to time my visits so that I wouldn't run into her.'

'Were you friendly on that occasion?'

'We were always friendly.'

'No arguments?'

'None.'

'Did custody of the child come up?'

'No. That was a closed issue as far as I was concerned. I knew I couldn't have her, and so I made the best of it. Now, things are different. The moment Annie died, I looked into it. The Bag doesn't stand a chance. That's why I've started the legal machinery going.'

' When did you start, Mr Boone?'

'When Annie died.'

'The same day?'

'The day after.'

'Do you own a gun, Mr Boone?'

'Yes.'

'What make and calibre?'

'It's an Iver Johnson. A .22.'

'Do you have a pistol permit?'

'Yes.'

'Carry or premises?'

'Premises. It's just a small gun, you know. I keep it for protection at home. I live on the South Side in Stewart City. That's an expensive part of Isola. A lot of burglaries there. I keep the gun for protection.'

'Do you have any other pistols?'

'No.'

'A .25 perhaps?'

'No.'

'Just that one gun? A .22 Iver Johnson, right?'

'Yes.'

'Did Annie have any enemies that you know of?'

'No. She was well-liked by everyone.'

'What's your lawyer's name?'

'My lawyer?'

'Yes.'

'Why do you want to know his name?'

'I'd like to talk to him.'

'About what?'

'Routine,' Kling said.

Boone studied him for a moment. 'Jefferson Dobberly,' he said at last.

'Do you know where I can reach him?'

'His offices are downtown in the Meredith Street section. 413 Margaret Place. Do you want his number?'

'If you have it handy.'

'Cooke 4-8310,' Boone said.

Kling wrote it into his pad. 'Thank you, Mr Boone,' he said. 'I hope you'll be available if any further questions come to mind.' He took a card from his wallet. 'If you should happen to remember anything you feel is important, just call me, won't you. The 87th Squad, Detective Kling. The number's on the card.'

Boone took the card and studied it.

From the other side of the room, Karl—standing with his arms folded—said, 'Hey, Ted, can we get this show on the road? The jungle queen's getting rich.'

'I've got to get back to work,' Boone said.

'I appreciate the time you've given me,' Kling said.

'One thing, Mr Kling.'

'Yes?'

'You don't think I did this, do you?'

'You know the answer to that one, Mr Boone,' Kling said.

'Come on, Ted,' Karl called. 'Let's go.'

'Okay, okay,' Boone said. 'Good luck, Mr Kling.' And then he turned his back and walked toward the model and said, 'Now let's get this jazz right this time, okay?'

CHAPTER SIX

It was funny the way Detective Roger Havilland got killed.

Now there are certainly a good many people who don't think there is anything funny whatever about getting killed, no matter how you happen to get killed. And the way Roger Havilland got killed wasn't really a funny ha-ha way, it was simply funny-peculiar. But it was funny. No question about it. If you knew Roger Havilland at all, you had to admit it was funny.

It wasn't easy to be Havilland.

He was a big man if you consider six feet four inches and two hundred and twenty pounds big. Maybe you don't. There are a lot of men who consider that average, and a lot of women who like their men to look like Primo Camera. Maybe you're one of them. Maybe you think Havilland was a midget.

The cops at the 87th thought he was pretty big, but that's because they had seen Havilland in action. He was not easy to miss when he was in action. He used his hands a lot. He liked to hit people, so to speak. Well, maybe he didn't really like to hit them, but he did hit them all the time, and it seemed as if he enjoyed it while he was doing it.

Cops like Steve Carella and Bert Kling didn't find it strange that Havilland enjoyed hitting people. They knew why he did. They didn't approve of it, but they knew why. They disliked him intensely. There wasn't a cop in the 87th, uniformed or detective, who really liked Havilland. They were sorry he got it, but not because they really liked him. They just didn't like to see cops getting killed. It made them think about becoming plumbers or bartenders.