knife strapped to his shin, and the hilt matched the mark in her palm.”
“But it was a bruise, not a cut.”
“Hilts don’t cut, Vince. They’re made not to cut.” Her tone was flat and mild, and while it acknowledged his possible dimness it criticized nothing. “Believe me, a lot of people went over that bruise, and one thing it does not point to is one iota of innocence on the part of Jim Delancey.”
“What did you think of him personally?”
“Personally he was a big, stupid, handsome, stoned schmuck. He was momma’s prince, ego with no limits. Nita Kohler was obnoxious to King Me and so he pulled her life off her like wings off a fly. He knew what he was doing and, believe me, he liked doing it.”
“You’re speaking as a woman or a feminist or a detective?”
“I’m speaking as a human being who happens, at this point in her life, to be all of the above.” Ellie switched off her electric typewriter and covered it.
“There’s a lot of drugs on that first tape,” Cardozo said.
“Tell me about it.”
“And they were never mentioned in the trial. How come he didn’t plead cocaine intoxication as a defense?”
“Beats me, because he was a heavy hitter. He was feeding his nose two-, three-hundred dollars’ worth a day. Why do you think he had all that breaking and entering on his rap sheet? The week before he killed Kohler he was fencing a thousand dollars a day.”
“What kind of stuff did he fence?”
“Jewelry, coins, watches, anything valuable and small he could pinch from his girlfriends’ apartments.”
“As I recall he had quite a few society girls interested in him.”
“And it wasn’t because he was interested back. It was just their bad luck that they could access the kind of cash he needed.”
“He didn’t like girls?”
“ Like is not the word. He had a momma’s-boy resentment of females. They owed him a living and they owed him sex and they weren’t doing their job.”
“Think he’s twisted enough to kill Oona Aldrich?”
“If he got a chance after the grief she caused him today, absolutely.”
“On his third week of parole?”
“What’s parole got to do with it? It’s the principle of the thing. Oona was a woman, and she bugged him. With timing and luck he could have followed her in a cab. The emergency stairway would have gotten him into the changing room and out again.”
“But you’re forgetting one thing: What would he tell his boss?”
“That he was stepping outside to smoke a cigarette.”
Cardozo ran it through his mind. “I don’t know. There’s such a thing as going out to smoke a cigarette, and then there’s such a thing as going out to smoke a pack.”
“All I know is, Delancey had the head to kill her. Whether he had the opportunity …” Ellie flicked off her desk light. “Makes me tired to think about it. That’s it for me. Good night.”
Cardozo was suddenly aware that there was one thing he wanted to do very much, and that was go to bed. He walked with Ellie to the stairs.
“Funny,” he said. “Delancey’s mother working in the boutique where Oona was killed.”
“What’s funny? The woman ran up a quarter million in legal fees defending her golden boy. And God knows how much it cost to spring him from prison. She’s got to work somewhere.” Ellie shrugged. “Sometimes you just have to accept that there’s such a thing as coincidence.”
“But don’t you sometimes have to accept that there isn’t?”
“Every day.”
They came to the stairway.
“Do you think Delancey could change?” Cardozo said. “Get off drugs? Hold down a job? Grow up maybe?”
Ellie tossed him a pitying glance. “People don’t change, Vince. They just learn better camouflage.”
“Is that your story, Ellie?”
“And yours obviously. But more to the point it’s his.”
Cardozo returned to his cubicle. He got out his notebook and listed reasons why Jim Delancey had to be involved. He turned the page and listed reasons why
“But it was a bruise, not a cut.”
“Hilts don’t cut, Vince. They’re made not to cut.” Her tone was flat and mild, and while it acknowledged his possible dimness it criticized nothing. “Believe me, a lot of people went over that bruise, and one thing it does not point to is one iota of innocence on the part of Jim Delancey.”
“What did you think of him personally?”
“Personally he was a big, stupid, handsome, stoned schmuck. He was momma’s prince, ego with no limits. Nita Kohler was obnoxious to King Me and so he pulled her life off her like wings off a fly. He knew what he was doing and, believe me, he liked doing it.”
“You’re speaking as a woman or a feminist or a detective?”
“I’m speaking as a human being who happens, at this point in her life, to be all of the above.” Ellie switched off her electric typewriter and covered it.
“There’s a lot of drugs on that first tape,” Cardozo said.
“Tell me about it.”
“And they were never mentioned in the trial. How come he didn’t plead cocaine intoxication as a defense?”
“Beats me, because he was a heavy hitter. He was feeding his nose two-, three-hundred dollars’ worth a day. Why do you think he had all that breaking and entering on his rap sheet? The week before he killed Kohler he was fencing a thousand dollars a day.”
“What kind of stuff did he fence?”
“Jewelry, coins, watches, anything valuable and small he could pinch from his girlfriends’ apartments.”
“As I recall he had quite a few society girls interested in him.”
“And it wasn’t because he was interested back. It was just their bad luck that they could access the kind of cash he needed.”
“He didn’t like girls?”
“ Like is not the word. He had a momma’s-boy resentment of females. They owed him a living and they owed him sex and they weren’t doing their job.”
“Think he’s twisted enough to kill Oona Aldrich?”
“If he got a chance after the grief she caused him today, absolutely.”
“On his third week of parole?”
“What’s parole got to do with it? It’s the principle of the thing. Oona was a woman, and she bugged him. With timing and luck he could have followed her in a cab. The emergency stairway would have gotten him into the changing room and out again.”
“But you’re forgetting one thing: What would he tell his boss?”
“That he was stepping outside to smoke a cigarette.”
Cardozo ran it through his mind. “I don’t know. There’s such a thing as going out to smoke a cigarette, and then there’s such a thing as going out to smoke a pack.”
“All I know is, Delancey had the head to kill her. Whether he had the opportunity …” Ellie flicked off her desk light. “Makes me tired to think about it. That’s it for me. Good night.”
Cardozo was suddenly aware that there was one thing he wanted to do very much, and that was go to bed. He walked with Ellie to the stairs.
“Funny,” he said. “Delancey’s mother working in the boutique where Oona was killed.”
“What’s funny? The woman ran up a quarter million in legal fees defending her golden boy. And God knows how much it cost to spring him from prison. She’s got to work somewhere.” Ellie shrugged. “Sometimes you just have to accept that there’s such a thing as coincidence.”
“But don’t you sometimes have to accept that there isn’t?”
“Every day.”
They came to the stairway.
“Do you think Delancey could change?” Cardozo said. “Get off drugs? Hold down a job? Grow up maybe?”
Ellie tossed him a pitying glance. “People don’t change, Vince. They just learn better camouflage.”
“Is that your story, Ellie?”
“And yours obviously. But more to the point it’s his.”
Cardozo returned to his cubicle. He got out his notebook and listed reasons why Jim Delancey had to be involved. He turned the page and listed reasons why
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