"Then why did he warn the others not to touch the body?"
"I'm sure I don't know," Christine said curtly. Carella cleared his throat.
"Do you have any idea how much your father-in-law was worth, Mrs. Scott?"
"Worth? What do you mean worth?"
"In property," Carella said.
"In money."
"No. I have no idea."
"You must have some idea, Mrs. Scott.
Surely you know he was a very wealthy man."
"Yes, of course I know that."
"But not how wealthy, is that right?"
"That's right."
"Did you know that he left $750,000 to be divided equally among his three sons.
Not to mention Scott Industries, Inc." and various other holdings. Did you know that?"
"No. I didn't-" Christine stopped.
"What are you implying Detective Carella?"
"Implying? Nothing. I'm stating a fact of inheritance, that's all. Do you find the fact has implications?"
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, damnit, it has implications. It implies that perhaps someone deliberately … that's your damn implication, isn't it?"
"You're making the implications, Mrs. Scott. Not me."
"Go to hell, Mr. Carella," Christine Scott said.
"Mmm," Carella answered.
"You're forgetting one little thing, aren't you?"
"What's that?"
"My father-in-law was found dead in a windowless room, and the door was bolted from the inside. Now perhaps you can tell me how your implication of murder..
"Your implication, Mrs. Scott." of murder ties ties in with what are obvious facts.
Or do all detectives automatically go around looking for dirt? Is that your job, Mr. Carella? Looking for dirt?"
"My job is law enforcement. And crime detection.~~ "No crime has been committed here. And no law has been broken."
"Suicide is a crime against the state," Carella said flatly.
"Then you do admit it was suicide."
"It looks as if it might have been. But a lot of suicides that look like suicides turn out to be homicides. You don't mind if I'm thorough about it, do you?"
"I don't mind anything except your excess of bad manners. Provided you don't forget what I mentioned earlier."
"What's that?"
"That he was found in a windowless locked room. Don't forget that, Mr.
Carella."
"Mrs. Scott," Carella said fervently, "I wish I could."
Alf Miscolo lay crumpled against the door to the Men's Room. Not thirty seconds had passed since the slug took him in the back. The people in the squad room had frozen completely as if the explosion of the .38 had rendered them impotent, incapable of either speech or movement. The stench of cordite hung on the air with the blue-gray after smoke of the explosion.
Virginia Dodge, in clear silhouette against the gray of the smoke, seemed suddenly to be a very real and definite threat. She whirled from the railing just as Cotton Hawes broke from his desk in the corner.
"Get back!" she said.
"There's a hurt man out there," Hawes said, and he pushed through the gate.
"Come back here or you're next!"
Virginia shouted.
"The hell with you!" Hawes said, and he ran to where Miscolo lay against the closed door.
The bullet had ripped through Miscolo's back with the clean precision of a needle passing through a piece of linen. Then, erupting at its point of exit, it had torn a hole the size of a baseball just below his collarbone. The front of his shirt was drenched with blood. Miscolo was unconscious, gasping for breath.
"Get him in here," Virginia said.
"He shouldn't be moved," Hawes answered.
"For God's sake, he ..
"All right, hero," Virginia said tightly, "the nitro goes up!" She turned back toward the desk swinging the gun so that it was dangerously close to the bottle of clear liquid.
"Bring him in, Cotton!" Byrnes said.
"If we move him, Pete, he's liable to ..
"Goddamnit, that's an order! Do as I say!"
Hawes turned toward Byrnes, his eyes narrowed.
"Yes, sir," he said and there was barely concealed vehemence in his voice.
He reached down for a grip on the prostrate Miscolo. The man was heavy, heavier now with unconsciousness. He could feel Miscolo's bulk as he lifted him from the floor, his muscular arms straining against the man's weight. He braced himself and then shoved Miscob higher into his arms with a supporting knee. He could feel Miscolo's hot blood rushing against his naked forearm. Staggering with his load, he carried Miscolo through the gate and into the squad room
"Put him back there," Virginia said.
"On the floor. Out of sight." She turned to Byrnes.
"If anybody comes up here, it was an accident, do you hear me? A gun went off accidentally. Nobody was hurt."
"We're going to have to get a doctor for him," Hawes said.
"We're going to have to get nothing for him," Virginia snapped.
"The man's been ..
"Put him down, redhead! Behind the filing cabinets. And fast."
