York's Fastest Oriental Eatery. The acidic sizzling in his stomach showed on his face as he stared across the street at Live Girls.
Such a plain little place, and yet something about it held Benedek's gaze, something that he couldn't actually see but something he felt , maybe.
He'd waited for the police in the apartment next to Doris's. Mrs. Shaunessy, an old widow, had heard him shouting and came over to see what was wrong. When she saw the bloody mess in the apartment, she'd taken Benedek's arm, ushered him to her apartment muttering comfort and assurances, then put him on the sofa and poured him a glass of scotch.
Riley had come, Detective Kenneth Riley. They'd met on a number of occasions, never pleasantly. Riley did not like Benedek because he was a reporter and reporters got in the way. Benedek, as a rule, did not judge people by their occupations; he did not like Riley because Riley was simply not a nice man.
After seeing the bodies in the apartment, however, Riley had shown Benedek a rare moment of compassion.
“I'm ... very sorry, Walter,” he'd said, coming into Mrs. Shaunessy's apartment.
“Yeah, thanks,” Benedek had said hoarsely.
Riley had seated himself on the sofa beside Benedek. “You know, Walter, I'll have to question you,” he'd said softly.
“Right now?"
“Well, I'd like to get as much information from you as possible now."
Had Vernon Macy been acting strange lately? Were there some domestic problems between Mr. and Mrs. Macy? Where might Mr. Macy be found?
Benedek had told Riley everything he could, especially about Vernon's strange behavior of late and his visits to Live Girls.
“That was out of character for your brother-in-law?” Riley had asked.
“You kidding? Way out."
After a pause, Riley had asked carefully, “You think he might have done it?"
Benedek had looked up at him with disbelief. “ Might have? Isn't it as obvious as the fucking weather , Riley?"
“Well, we'll see. We've gotta find him first. We're going to start with his place of work."
“Go to Live Girls. Times Square."
“Yeah, we'll go there, too, eventually."
“Go there first, Riley."
Riley had frowned at him, apparently puzzled at Benedek's insistence. “What're you thinking, Walter?” he'd asked firmly. “If you know something, you'd better tell me now."
Benedek had started to speak, but his voice never came and he'd finally swallowed the unspoken words with another shot of scotch. He was sure of nothing. He just felt something, but that didn't count.
When Benedek didn't answer, Riley stood and said, “We're looking to contact his dentist, too. You wouldn't know his name, would you?"
Benedek shook his head. “Why?"
Riley hesitated. “They were, um, bitten. Extensively. M.E. thinks they might've ... bled to death if ... if they didn't go right away."
“There wasn't that much blood,” Benedek had said.
“Yeah, that's what's got the M.E. scratching his head. You go home now, Walter. I'll have to talk to you some more, but it can wait till tomorrow. You can work out all the arrangements and ... Just go home now. Get some rest."
He'd gone to Times Square. He'd walked for a while up and down the sidewalk across from Live Girls, watching. Waiting to see a familiar dumpy figure hurrying through the crowd. But it never appeared.
Not long after he'd arrived, around ten-thirty, maybe eleven, he'd noticed the young man. He'd stood out of the crowd, totally unlike most of the customers going in and out of Live Girls. All the others looked like typical peep-joint clientele, maybe a little on the unhealthy side, gaunt and worn. This guy, however, was young and in apparently good shape; he was well groomed and wearing a suit. When he came back out, Benedek had noticed that he was limping, almost staggering. Then he'd seemed to make an effort to hold his balance as he fell into step with the others on the sidewalk.
Now why , Benedek had wondered, would a
Such a plain little place, and yet something about it held Benedek's gaze, something that he couldn't actually see but something he felt , maybe.
He'd waited for the police in the apartment next to Doris's. Mrs. Shaunessy, an old widow, had heard him shouting and came over to see what was wrong. When she saw the bloody mess in the apartment, she'd taken Benedek's arm, ushered him to her apartment muttering comfort and assurances, then put him on the sofa and poured him a glass of scotch.
Riley had come, Detective Kenneth Riley. They'd met on a number of occasions, never pleasantly. Riley did not like Benedek because he was a reporter and reporters got in the way. Benedek, as a rule, did not judge people by their occupations; he did not like Riley because Riley was simply not a nice man.
After seeing the bodies in the apartment, however, Riley had shown Benedek a rare moment of compassion.
“I'm ... very sorry, Walter,” he'd said, coming into Mrs. Shaunessy's apartment.
“Yeah, thanks,” Benedek had said hoarsely.
Riley had seated himself on the sofa beside Benedek. “You know, Walter, I'll have to question you,” he'd said softly.
“Right now?"
“Well, I'd like to get as much information from you as possible now."
Had Vernon Macy been acting strange lately? Were there some domestic problems between Mr. and Mrs. Macy? Where might Mr. Macy be found?
Benedek had told Riley everything he could, especially about Vernon's strange behavior of late and his visits to Live Girls.
“That was out of character for your brother-in-law?” Riley had asked.
“You kidding? Way out."
After a pause, Riley had asked carefully, “You think he might have done it?"
Benedek had looked up at him with disbelief. “ Might have? Isn't it as obvious as the fucking weather , Riley?"
“Well, we'll see. We've gotta find him first. We're going to start with his place of work."
“Go to Live Girls. Times Square."
“Yeah, we'll go there, too, eventually."
“Go there first, Riley."
Riley had frowned at him, apparently puzzled at Benedek's insistence. “What're you thinking, Walter?” he'd asked firmly. “If you know something, you'd better tell me now."
Benedek had started to speak, but his voice never came and he'd finally swallowed the unspoken words with another shot of scotch. He was sure of nothing. He just felt something, but that didn't count.
When Benedek didn't answer, Riley stood and said, “We're looking to contact his dentist, too. You wouldn't know his name, would you?"
Benedek shook his head. “Why?"
Riley hesitated. “They were, um, bitten. Extensively. M.E. thinks they might've ... bled to death if ... if they didn't go right away."
“There wasn't that much blood,” Benedek had said.
“Yeah, that's what's got the M.E. scratching his head. You go home now, Walter. I'll have to talk to you some more, but it can wait till tomorrow. You can work out all the arrangements and ... Just go home now. Get some rest."
He'd gone to Times Square. He'd walked for a while up and down the sidewalk across from Live Girls, watching. Waiting to see a familiar dumpy figure hurrying through the crowd. But it never appeared.
Not long after he'd arrived, around ten-thirty, maybe eleven, he'd noticed the young man. He'd stood out of the crowd, totally unlike most of the customers going in and out of Live Girls. All the others looked like typical peep-joint clientele, maybe a little on the unhealthy side, gaunt and worn. This guy, however, was young and in apparently good shape; he was well groomed and wearing a suit. When he came back out, Benedek had noticed that he was limping, almost staggering. Then he'd seemed to make an effort to hold his balance as he fell into step with the others on the sidewalk.
Now why , Benedek had wondered, would a
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