“We’ll have to fill out some papers, sir,” he said, “but I can tell you right now we ain’t got a chance in hell of getting back the cash, and we’ll be lucky Gallagher don’t clean out Tiffany’s tomorrow with your credit cards. First thing you better do is advise all the companies that your cards were stolen—do you know the numbers on the cards?”
“Nobody knows the numbers on their cards,” Bonano said.
“Who asked you?”
“You asked him.”
“But nobody asked you, did they?”
“What’s the point askin’ the man an impossible question to answer? Excuse me, sir, but do you know the numbers on your credit cards?”
“No,” Michael said.
“There you are,” Bonano said.
“It so happens,” Orso said, “I happen to know nobody knows the numbers on their credit cards. But it don’t hurt to ask because one chance in a million, the person will know. It don’t matter whether he knows or not, anyway, ‘cause the credit card company has all this shit on a computer, and all you have to do, sir,” he said, turning again to Michael, “is give them your name and address, and tell them your cards were stolen, and they’ll make sure the word goes out. Otherwise, Gallagher’s gonna buy himself a ticket on the Concorde to Paris and charge it to your MasterCard.”
“Two tickets,” Bonano said. “One for his girlfriend Dotty.”
“You’ll have to inform all your credit card companies,” Orso said solemnly. “Now, sir,” he said, and rolled some forms and some sheets of carbon into his typewriter. “Can you tell me your name, please?”
“Michael J. Barnes.”
“What does the J stand for, sir?”
“Just J. Just the letter J.”
“Yes, sir, and your address, sir? In case we catch Gallagher in the next hour or so.”
“Ha!” Bonano said.
Orso gave him a look. Bonano shrugged.
“I was staying at the Hilton,” Michael said. “But I’ve already checked out. In fact, my valise was in the …”
“On Fifty-fourth and Sixth?”
“Yes.”
“I stayed at the Hilton once,” Bonano said.
“What is it with you, huh?” Orso said.
“Don’t you know how to keep your mouth shut?”
“It’s a very nice hotel, sir,” Bonano said, as though complimenting its owner. Orso rolled his eyes. “Your home address, please,” he said.
“16554 Fruitville Road,” Michael said. “Sarasota, Florida.”
“Ah-ha,” Orso said. “Something told me you were from Florida.”
“Like maybe his suntan,” Bonano said.
“Are you near Hollywood Park? I go to Hollywood Park for the races.”
“That’s on the east coast,” Michael said.
“So,” Orso said, “from what the desk sergeant told me on the phone, Gallagher stole not only your money, your credit cards, and your driver’s license, but also your car. What …?”
“No, it wasn’t Cahill who stole the car,” Michael said.
“Gallagher, you mean.”
“Neither one.”
“Then who was it?”
“Arthur Crandall.”
“Who?” Bonano said.
“Arthur Crandall,” Michael said. “He’s a movie director. Here’s his card.”
“He stole your car and gave you his card?” Orso said, astonished.
“That is some classy thief,” Bonano said. Orso looked at the card.
“This looks like a piece of film,” he said.
“It’s his business card,” Michael said.
“I can’t get over it. A guy steals your car and hands you his card.”
“He gave me the card first,” Michael said.
“And then stole your car?” Bonano said.
“One thing I know for sure,” Orso said, “a guy planning to steal your car hands you a business card with a name and two addresses on it, the name and the addresses are phony.”
“For sure,” Bonano said.
“So what we got here,” Orso said, “is two unrelated cases. We got a phony cop and his copy editor girlfriend … did she tell you she was a copy editor?”
“No, a lawyer.”
“Not a copy editor?”
“A criminal lawyer.”
“Hmm,” Orso said, and shook his head.
“Well, what we got here nonetheless is this phony pair who stole your money and your credit cards and your driver’s license …”
“My library card, too,” Michael said.
“Do you read a lot?” Bonano asked.
“Yes,” Michael said.
“I do, too. I developed the habit in the slammer.”
“Sir, are you paying attention here?” Orso said.
“Yes, I’m sorry,” Michael said.
“That’s perfectly all right, sir. And we also got this phony movie director who stole your car …”
“It was a rented car,” Michael said.
“Good thing,” Bonano said.
“Which in no way diminishes the fact of Grand Theft, Auto,” Orso said. “The point being we now got two cases here instead of one. Which now makes it twice as hard.” He sighed heavily, and then said, “When did you plan on leaving the city, sir? In case we hear anything.”
“I’m catching an eleven-oh-five plane out of Kennedy,” Michael said, and looked at his watch.
“Do you have your plane ticket already?”
“Yes, I do.”
“All paid for and everything?”
“Yes.”
“That’s very good, sir. How did you plan on getting to the airport, sir?”
“Well, I haven’t given that any thought, actually.”
“Since all your money was stolen, you see.”
“Yes, that’s true.”
“In fact, sir, how did you plan on getting to Franklin Street?”
“Why would I want to go to Franklin Street?” Michael asked.
“Because that’s where you can catch the train to Kennedy.”
“Oh.”
“Are you familiar with our subway system, sir?”
“No.”