Certain Prey

we found the gun, we found all kinds of evidence that she committed at least one murder; I’d like to see what other evidence we could put together from other cases. If there is any.”
    Malone was puzzled: “But you said that was a put-up job. Why would you want to make that case?”
    “Because, just between you, me, and the doorpost, I know damn well that Carmel Loan helped set up these killings. I don’t know exactly how, although sex might have had something to do with it—or it might not have. Maybe it was money, or just for fun. But she’s in it, up to her neck. And I can tie Carmel to Clark. If I can make a case that Clark is the shooter, and I can tie Carmel to her, maybe I could talk a jury into sending Carmel away.”
    “Oh, man, I don’t know—that doesn’t sound overly ethical.”
    “I ain’t a fuckin’ lawyer. I’m just a humble cop,” Lucas said. “So I don’t know about ethics. But could you send a lawyer up? We can work out the details—the ethics—later.”
    She was peering at him over the diner table, and said, “I’m not sure I want to know the details.”
    “But you’ll send somebody up?”
    “I guess.” She had one small crumb of toast sitting on the left corner of her mouth, and Lucas picked up her napkin and dabbed it off for her.
    “You had a crumb,” he said.
    She shrugged and met his eyes: “The story of my life . . .”

TWENTY-FIVE

    Sherrill agreed with Malone: “That is the goofiest thing I’ve ever heard.”
    Black disagreed: “How about the Tracy Triplets and the thing with the gourd? You said that was the goofiest thing you’d ever heard. That you’d never see that peak again.”
    Sherrill’s eyes stayed with Lucas, but she spoke to Black: “Okay, this is the second-goofiest thing I’ve ever heard. The Tracy Triplets are still first, but only because of the midget. If it wasn’t for the midget, this would be goofier.”
    Lucas wasn’t smiling: “This is not goofy. You’re starting to piss me off.”
    Sherrill was waving her arms: “Lucas, how’n the hell can you convict an innocent dead woman of something she didn’t do?”
    “Shouldn’t be too tough,” Lucas said. “We do it a few times a year with innocent live people. How hard could it be to do it with a dead one? She certainly won’t care. And we will get Carmel.”
    “Jesus, man, I don’t know,” Black said. “This ain’t a game.”
    “I know. But maybe we’ll break something loose. So what I want is, I want everybody out working on connections between Louise Clark and Carmel. They were about the same age—did they ever go to the same school? Did they ever hang out at the same place? They must’ve known each other, so let’s make them into friends. Let’s put together some ideas that’ll tighten up the story on Clark, something we could take her to court on . . .”
    “If she were alive,” Black said.
    “Yeah. If she was alive.”
    “This won’t work if Carmel doesn’t hear about it. We want her to react,” Lucas said. A half-dozen detectives were crowded into Lucas’s office; Sherrill, Black, Sloan, a guy from Drugs, two from Sex. Lucas wanted people he’d worked with and could trust. “We know she’s got at least a couple of sources inside the department, so we want you to blab. Gossip. Homicide is tying Carmel Loan to Louise Clark, and through her, to the killings.”
    “Why don’t you call some of your pals at TV Three?” Black asked.
    “I’d rather have them ask me about it,” Lucas said. “I don’t want it to be an obvious plant. Rumors are better than actual stories. In fact, if the newsies hear about it, I’ll probably deny it.”
    “Refuse to comment,” Sherrill said. “That always makes their little weenies hard.” C ARMEL HEARD about it almost immediately. “They’re what?”
    “They’re tying you to Louise Clark. If they can tie you to her, you could be in trouble.”
    “But I didn’t do anything,” she said with asperity.
    “Yeah, well, whatever. Listen, things are getting a little warm around here. I’m getting out of the information business for a while, okay?”
    “You mean, ‘Don’t call,’ ” Carmel said.
    “I’m not trying to be an asshole, but they’re pulling out all the stops. They’ve got a half-dozen guys working on it. Davenport told somebody that they’ll have you inside by the end of the week.”
    “That’s absurd.”
    “I thought you’d want to know . . . so I’m signing off, okay? This last