The black skirt was taut over the extended leg of Angelica Gomez. It tightened around a fleshy thigh, pulled back over the knee, ended there in sudden revelation of shapely calf and slender anlde. A black strap circled the anlde and beneath that was a red leather pump with a heel like a stiletto. That heel was buried in the back of Willis' hand.
And then Angelica pulled back her leg and stooped immediately to pick up the gun. From the floor, her skirt pulled back over both knees, her eyes flashing, she whirled on Lieutenant Byrnes, who was reaching for the bottle of nitro on the desk top.
"Don' touch it!" she shouted.
Byrnes stopped cold.
"Away from the desk," she said.
"Ever'body! Back! Back!"
They moved from the desk, fanning away from it, backing away from a new menace which seemed more deadly than the first.
Angelica Gomez had stabbed a man and, for all they knew, that man might now be dead. She had the law to face, and she also had the street gang to face, and so the look on her face was one of desperate resignation. Angelica Gomez was making her pitch for better or worse, and Christ help whoever stepped into her path.
She rose, the pistol unwavering in her fist.
"I'm ge'n out of here," she said.
"Don' nobody try to Stop me."
Virginia Dodge was on her feet now. She turned to Angelica, and there was a smile on her face.
"Good girl," she said.
"Give me the gun."
For a moment, Angelica did not understand. She looked at Virginia curiously and then said, "You crazy? I'm leavin'. Now!"
"I know. Give me the gun. I'll cover them for you. While you go."
"Why I should give you the gun?"
Angelica said.
"For Christ's sake, are you on their side?
The ones who want to send you to jail?
Give me the gun!"
"I don' have to do you no favors. I ask before you let me go, an' you say no. Now you want the gun. You crazy."
"All right, I'll put it in black and white. If you take that gun with you, I'm jumped the minute you leave this room. And that means they'll be on the phone in four seconds and the whole damn police force will be after you. If you give me the gun, I hold them. I keep them here. No phone calls. No radio cars looking for you. You're free."
Angelica thought about this for a moment.
"Give me the gun!" Virginia said, and she took a step closer to Angelica. The Puerto Rican girl stood poised like a tigress, her back arched over into a C, her legs widespread, the gun trembling in her hand.
Virginia came closer.
"Give it to me," she said.
"You hol' them back?~' Angelica asked.
"You keep them here?"
"Yes."
"Come then. Come close."
Virginia moved to her side.
"Your hand," Angelica said.
Virginia held out her hand, and Angelica put the gun into it.
"I go now," she said.
"You keep them here. I get away. Free," she said, "free."
She started to move. She took one step away from Virginia, her back to the woman. Quickly, Virginia raised the gun.
Brutally, she brought it crashing down on the skull of Angelica Gomez. The girl collapsed to the floor, and Virginia stepped over her and moved rapidly to the desk.
Does anybody still think I'm kidding?"
she asked quietly.
Roger, the servant who had been with Jefferson Scott for more than twenty years, was sweeping out the hallway when Carella went upstairs again. Hunched over a tall thin man with white wisps of hair circling a balding head, he swept up the wooden rectangles, squares, triangles, and splinters of the crowbar's destruction. The foxtail brush worked methodically in thin, precise fingers, sweeping the debris into the dustpan.
"Cleaning up the mess?" Carella asked pleasantly.
"Yes," Roger said.
"Yes, sir. Mr.
Scott liked things neat."
"How well did you know the old man?"
Carella asked.
"I've worked for him a long time, sir," Roger said, rising.
"A long time."
"Did you like him?"
"He was a fine man. I liked him very much."
"Did he ever have trouble with any of his sons?"
"Trouble, sir?"
"You know. Arguments. Real quarrels.
Any of them ever threaten him?"
"They argued from time to time, sir, but never violently. And never any threats. No, sir."
"Mmm. How about the daughter-in~ law
Any trouble when David brought her home?"
"No, sir. Mr. Scott liked her very much.
He often said he wished his other sons would do as well when they married."
"I see." Carella paused.
"Well, thanks a lot." He paused again.
"I want to look over the room another time, see if anything else turns up."
"Yes, sir." Roger seemed reluctant to leave. He stood with the dustpan in one hand and the foxtail in the other, seemingly waiting for something.
"Yes?" Carella said.
"Sir, we generally dine at seven. It's past six-thirty now, and I was wondering … sir, did you plan to stay for dimner?"
Carella looked at his watch. It was 6:37.
"No," he said.
"In fact, I'm supposed to be back at the squad by seven. My wife's meeting me there. No, thanks. No dinner." He paused and then, for no earthly reason, said, "We're going to have a baby. My wife is.
"Yes, sir," Roger said. He smiled.
"Yeah," Carella said, and he smiled, too.
