"A pity, isn't it, Lieutenant. Nice kid like that." The voice grew suddenly businesslike. "Did you check those fingerprints?"
"Yes."
"Are they his?"
"Yes."
"It looks bad, doesn't it, Lieutenant?"
"My son didn't argue with Hernandez."
"I've got a witness, Lieutenant."
"Who's your witness?"
"You'll be surprised."
"Go ahead."
"Maria Hernandez."
"What!"
"Yes. That makes it look even worse, doesn't it? The one witness to the argument suddenly winds up dead. That makes it look pretty bad, Lieutenant."
"My son was with me on the night Maria Hernandez was killed," Byrnes said flatly.
"That'll sit pretty nicely with a jury, won't it?" the voice said. "Especially when the jury learns Pop has been concealing evidence." There was a pause. "Or have you told your colleagues about your son's prints on that syringe?"
"No," Byrnes said hesitantly. "I… I haven't. Look, what is it you want?"
"I'll tell you what I want. You're supposed to be a pretty tough customer, aren't you, Lieutenant?"
"Goddamnit, what do you want?" Byrnes paused. "Are you looking for money? Is that it?"
"Lieutenant, you underestimate me. I…"
"Hello?" a new voice said.
"What?" Byrnes asked. "Who…?"
"Oh, gee, I'm sorry, Lieutenant," Cassidy said. "I must've plugged into the wrong hole. I'm trying to get Carella. I've got Danny Gimp for him."
"All right, Cassidy, get off the line," Byrnes said.
"Yes, sir."
He waited until the clicking told him Cassidy was gone.
"All right," he said. "He's gone."
There was no answer.
"Hello?" Byrnes said. "Hello?"
His party was gone. Byrnes slammed down the receiver, and then sat morosely at his desk, thinking. He thought very carefully, and he thought very clearly, and when the knock sounded on his door five minutes later, he had reached a conclusion and a certain peace.
"Come," he said.
The door opened. Carella came into the office.
"I just spoke to Danny Gimp," Carella said. He shook his head. "No luck. He doesn't know any Gonzo, either."
"Well," Byrnes said wearily.
"So I'm going to take another run over to the park. Maybe I'll see this kid again. If he's not there, I'll try around."
"Fine," Byrnes said. "Do your best."
"Right." Carella turned to leave.
"Steve," Byrnes said, "before you go…"
"Yes?"
"There's something you ought to know. There's a lot you ought to know."
"What is it, Pete?"
"The fingerprints on that syringe-" Byrnes said, and then he girded himself for what would be a long and painful story. "They're my son's."
"Mom!"
Harriet stood at the foot of the steps and heard the voice of her son again, a plaintive voice that penetrated the wood of his door and then fled wildly down the steps.
"Mom, come up here! Open this door! Mom!"
She stood quite still, her eyes troubled, her hands clenched one over the other at her waist.
"What is it, Larry?" she said.
"Come up here! Goddammit, can't you come up here?"
She nodded gently, knowing he could not see her reply, and she started up the steps to the upper level. She was a full-breasted woman who had been considered something of a beauty in her Calm's Point youth. Her eyes, even now, were a clear bright green, but the red of her hair was threaded with gray strands and she had put on more weight in the behind than she'd wanted. Her legs were still good, not as strong as they used to be, but good, clean legs. They carried her upstairs, and she stopped outside the door to Larry's bedroom and very quietly asked, "What is it, son?"
"Open the door," Larry said.
"Why?"
"I want to come out."
"Your father said you are not to leave your room, Larry. The doctor…"
"Oh, sure, Mom," Larry said, his voice becoming suddenly oily, "that was before. But I'm all right now, really I am. Come on, Mom, open the door."
"No," she said firmly.
"Mom," Larry continued persuasively, "can't you tell I'm all right now? Really, Mom, I wouldn't try to fool you. I'm fine. But I feel sort of cooped up here, really. I'd like to walk around the house a little, stretch my legs."
"No."
"Mom…"
"No, Larry!"
"For Christ's sake, what the hell do I have to do around here, anyway? Are you trying to torture me? Is that what you're trying to do? Listen to me. Now listen to me, Mom. You go call that lousy doctor and tell him to get me something fast, do you hear?"
"Larry…"
"Shut up! I'm sick of this damn mollycoddle attitude around here! All right, I'm a junkie! I'm a goddamn junkie,
"I'll call Johnny if you like. But he will not bring any heroin."
"You're a pair, aren't you? You and the old man. Ike and Mike. They think alike. Open this door!
"All right, Larry," Harriet said calmly. "I'll open the door."
"Oh," he said. "Well. It's about time. So open it."
