“Meyer?” Carella said, and Meyer handed him a manila envelope. Carella opened the flap and removed from the envelope a framed picture of Sarah Fletcher, which he handed to Hart. Hart looked at the photograph, and then immediately looked up at Carella.
“What is this?” he said.
“Do you recognize that picture, Mr. Hart?”
“Let me see your badge,” Hart said.
“What?”
“Your badge, your badge. Let me see your identification.”
Carella took out his wallet, and opened it to where his detective’s shield was pinned opposite his I.D. card. Hart studied both, and then said, “I thought this might be a shakedown.”
“Why’d you think that?”
Hart did not answer. He looked at the photograph again, shook his head, and said, “Somebody killed her, huh?”
“Yes, somebody did,” Carella answered. “Did you know her?”
“I knew her.”
“I thought you said you didn’t.”
“I didn’t know Sarah Fletcher, if
“Who’d
“Just who she told me she was.”
“Which was?”
“Sadie Collins. She introduced herself as Sadie Collins, and that’s who I knew her as. Sadie Collins.”
“Where was this, Mr. Hart? Where’d you meet her?”
“In a bar.”
“Where?”
“Who the hell remembers? A singles’ bar. The city’s full of them.”
“Would you remember when?”
“At least a year ago.”
“Ever go out with her?”
“Yes.”
“How often?”
“Often enough.”
“
“I used to see her once or twice a week.”
“
“Last summer.”
“But until then you used to see her quite regularly.”
“Yeah, on and off.”
“Twice a week, you said.”
“Well, yeah.”
“Did you know she was married?”
“Who? Sadie? You’re kidding.”
“She never told you she was married?”
“Never.”
“You saw her twice a week . . .”
“Yeah.”
“But you didn’t know she was married?”
“How was I supposed to know that? She never said a word about it. Listen, there are enough single girls in this city, I don’t have to go looking for trouble with somebody who’s married.”
“Where’d you pick her up?” Meyer asked suddenly.
“I told you. A bar. I don’t remember which . . .”
“When you went out, I mean.”
“What?”
“When you were going out, where’d you pick her up? At her apartment?”
“No. She used to come to my place.”
“Where’d you call her? When you wanted to reach her?”
“I didn’t. She used to call me.”
“Where’d you go, Mr. Hart? When you went out?”
“We didn’t go out too much.”
“What
“She used to come to my place. We’d spend a lot of time there.”
“But when you
“Well, the truth is we never went out.”
“Never?”
“Never. She didn’t want to go out much.”
“Didn’t you think that was strange?”
“No.” Hart shrugged. “I figured she liked to stay home.”
“If you never went out, what
“Well now, what the hell do you
“You tell us.”
“You’re big boys. Figure it out for yourself.”
“Why’d you stop seeing her, Mr. Hart?”
“I met somebody else. A nice girl. I’m very serious about her. That’s why I thought . . .”
“Yes?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s why you thought
“Okay, that’s why I thought this was a shakedown. I thought somebody had found out about Sadie and me and . . . well . . . I’m very serious about this girl, I wouldn’t want her to know anything about the past. About Sadie and me. About seeing Sadie.”
“What was so terrible about seeing Sadie?” Meyer asked.
“Nothing.”
“Then why would anyone want to shake you down?”
“I don’t know.”
“If there was nothing terrible . . .”
“There wasn’t.”
“Then what’s there to hide?”
“There’s nothing to hide. I’m just very serious about this girl, and I wouldn’t want her to know . . .”
“To know what?”
“About Sadie.”
“Why not?”
“Because I just wouldn’t.”
“Was there something wrong with Sadie?”
“No, no, she was a beautiful woman, beautiful.”
“Then why would you be ashamed . . . ?”
“Ashamed? Who said anything about being ashamed?”
“You said you wouldn’t want your girlfriend . . .”
“Listen, what
“Crazy?”
Hart suddenly wiped his hand over his face, wet his lips, and walked behind his desk. “I don’t think I have anything more to say to you, gentlemen. If you have any other questions, maybe you’d better charge me with something, and I’ll ask my lawyer’s advice on what to do next.”
“What did you mean when you said she was crazy?” Carella asked.
“Good day, gentlemen,” Hart said.
In the lieutenant’s corner office, Byrnes and Carella sat drinking coffee. Byrnes was frowning. Carella was waiting. Neither of the men said a word. A telephone rang in the squadroom outside, and Byrnes looked at his watch.
“Well, yes or no, Pete?” Carella asked at last.
“I’m inclined to say no.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t know why you still want to pursue this thing.”
“Oh come on, Pete! If the goddamn guy
“That’s only
“Like what?”
