The Night Crew

‘‘It’s a weird thing, men and muscles. It’s like they think about it all the time.’’
    ‘‘What makes me mad is that some wimpy little jerk who never lifts anything heavier than a fork can whack me around because he’s got fifty pounds on me and he’s twice as strong, and he’s not even trying. It’s all hormones.’’
    ‘‘Yeah, but . . . that’s why God made us smarter,’’ Anna said.
    ‘‘That’s true,’’ Glass conceded. Glass lay in the back seat of Anna’s car, reading the comics, as Anna drove back home. Harper’s BMW was squeezed into a tight space in front of the house, and Anna had to maneuver the car to get it into the garage. They went inside, and found Harper at the kitchen table, eating a bowl of Golden Crisp with milk.
    ‘‘What?’’ he asked.
    Anna gave him a quick rundown, and he looked at Glass. ‘‘Put on the right clothes, at night . . . it’ll work. Keep
moving, though.’’
    ‘‘Anything at all on Clark?’’
    ‘‘Mmm,’’ Harper said. He quickly finished the cereal and carried the bowl to the sink. ‘‘Just a little thing.’’
    ‘‘He won’t find out . . .’’
    ‘‘No, no. I’ve got a friend in a law firm there, they’ve got a researcher on staff. She walked over and talked around the music department. She said she was checking on a mortgage history.’’
    ‘‘So what’d she find?’’ Anna asked impatiently. ‘‘The little-thing.’’
    ‘‘There’s a rumor of a sexual harassment complaint made by a graduate student—a woman graduate student—in a composition seminar. Apparently nothing was ever filed, no legal action, but there was . . . something.’’
    ‘‘Just a rumor,’’ Anna said dismissively.
    ‘‘No. There was something,’’ Harper said. ‘‘We can’t really find out what, unless we ask more directly. And he’d most likely hear about it.’’
    Anna shook her head. ‘‘Then don’t.’’
    Glass glanced at Harper, then said, ‘‘Anna, this is a little more important than your feelings. Or his. Remember China Lake . . .’’
    ‘‘I remember China Lake,’’ Anna snapped back. ‘‘I’m not gonna forget China Lake. But Clark didn’t do it.’’
    ‘‘One of his students has a recital tonight; he’ll be there. Eight o’clock at Schoenberg Hall,’’ Harper said.
    ‘‘Yeah?’’ Anna’s eyebrow went up.
    ‘‘We could pick him up after the recital,’’ Harper said, his voice casual. ‘‘Find out what he does with his evenings.’’
    ‘‘And we’d have time to stop by Kinko’s first, and talk to Catwell again,’’ Anna said.
    ‘‘We could do that,’’ Harper said.
    Coughlin would pick Glass up at the regular night-crew starting time, ten o’clock. If they left any earlier, they thought the stalker would miss them.
    Glass said, ‘‘When we go out tonight, if we don’t find anybody tailing us, we’ll probably cruise just long enough to seem legitimate, then come back here, like I was picking up something. Then go back out again. Give him another chance to pick us up. If we still don’t get anything, we’ll be back around midnight.’’
    ‘‘So you’re gonna lay low until then?’’ Harper asked.
    ‘‘I gotta get some sleep,’’ Glass said. She yawned: ‘‘Watching Creek is tiring.’’
    ‘‘Keep the doors locked,’’ Harper said. ‘‘The guy’s been here at least twice.’’ Anna snuck out to Harper’s car after dark, and curled up on the back seat, out of sight.
    ‘‘I don’t have much faith in this Catwell thing,’’ Harper said over the seat.
    ‘‘We just have to keep talking,’’ Anna said. ‘‘The cops keep saying that I know the guy. Sooner or later, I’ll pick him out. I probably should have already.’’
    • • •
    Bob Catwell was not at the Kinko’s.
    An unconsciously beautiful young blonde woman told them that Catwell had ‘‘rented a room in some frat house up on the hill. Down in the basement, you have to walk around the side on this gravel tracklike thing, and you see this door. Like, his room used to be the coal bin or something.’’
    She drew a sketch on a piece of copy paper, and Anna thanked her and they headed out.
    ‘‘Do you think she knows how beautiful she is?’’ Harper asked on the way to the car.
    ‘‘Somewhere down in her brain she knows that she gets special treatment,’’ Anna said. ‘‘Unless she’s particularly stupid, and she didn’t seem to be.’’ The frat house was built on the