Write me a Letter

empty. Cleaned out.”
    ”Oh, he was, all right,” I said. ”We spent hours together not talking to each other.”
    ”How did you get from San Francisco to here?”
    ”I drove,” I said. ”A rental.”
    ”Which is still in the parking lot,” he said. ”And as there is not an abundance of public transportation out in those parts at three a.m., i.e., none, he either walked out, hitched a ride, or someone picked him up. Which would mean there was someone else on the scene for me to try and fit into the grand scheme of things. Like you.”
    ”Me?” I said indignantly. ”My story is not only simple but verifiable. There’s the entry in my diary listing the appointment with R. Braukis. There’s the down payment she gave me. I’ve got a copy of the receipt I gave her.” I didn’t, but could always come up with one if needs be. ”There are our airline tickets, plus the airline’s records that we actually flew. The car rental. Our checking in here. My case rests.”
    ”Mine does not,” said the lieutenant.
    ”Don’t see why not,” I said, shifting my weight with extreme caution. ”It looks open and shut to me. Unidentified male Caucasian kills cook. Cook kills unidentified male Caucasian.”
    ”Why?” the lieutenant asked mildly. ”Don’t you like to know why things happen, Mr. Daniel?”
    ”Sometimes,” I admitted. ”OK, often, even. Not as much after a few drinks. Not at all when I’m legless. I don’t suppose there’s any connection.”
    He smiled briefly.
    ”Let us examine some of the possible ‘whys,’ Mr. Daniel, if you can spare a few moments.”
    I smiled briefly.
    ”Be my guest. With any luck you’ll make me miss lunch.”
    ”Gangs,” he said. ”It doesn’t smell like gangs, does it, Patrolman?”
    ”No, Chief,” he said.
    ”What does it smell like to you, Patrolman?”
    The Kingfisher thought deeply.
    ”Money?”
    ”Elucidate,” said the lieutenant, doodling in his pad.
    ”Women, drugs, money, what else do people kill over? The percentage says it’s money.”
    ”Flaws,” said the lieutenant, ”in your reasoning, Patrolman. There are many other causes of aggressive behavior. Drink. Anger. Frustration. Religious mania. Racial hatred. Nonracial hatred. Feelings of inadequacy. Feelings of moral superiority.”
    ”In the line of duty,” I chimed in. ”For one’s country. To protect one’s self, one’s possession, a loved one. Then there’s always kicks.”
    ”Some kick,” muttered Kingfisher, to his credit. I’ve heard it said some cops, and not only cops, actually like shooting at living things.
    ”To avenge,” murmured the lieutenant. ”There’s one we forgot. Ah well, I don’t suppose we’ll ever know for sure. As you mentioned earlier, Mr. Daniel, our humble task is to solve, not to reason why, which is probably lucky for some.” Here he glanced at Guess Who and it wasn’t Kingfisher.
    ””You never know, Chief,” I said encouragingly. ”Something may break. Some well-meaning informer, an anonymous letter from a good citizen, perhaps from a woman scorned…”
    ”Sure, sure,” said the lieutenant, getting slowly to his feet. ”Come on, Patrolman, let us leave Mr. Daniel to his dreams. And his hospital food. To say nothing of his disappearing clients.” He strode out.
    ”See ya,” Kingfisher said over his shoulder. The door swished. It swished again. The lieutenant tossed my shirt in the general direction of my bed, missing by a mile.
    ”Here,” he said. ”Someone even washed it for you. Hope it didn’t shrink.”
    ”Pure virgin wool shrink when it’s put through a commercial laundry along with bloodstained sheets, surgeon’s robes, and God knows what from Delivery? Don’t make me laugh.” He left. Swish. What was left of my shirt lay on the floor. I lay on the bed. I thought. Things could have gone worse with the lieutenant, I thought. Lucky I dumped the gun. Lucky too I had my story together such as it was. Benny’s story would be together, too, I had no doubt of that, it always was. If the lieutenant persisted, he could eventually find the link between us, which might lead him to rethink the whole affair, but why should he? Like he said, his task was to solve and solve he had. But a fool he wasn’t. ”To avenge”—that was a nice touch, that was one way to link up a European, i.e., Israeli, former soldier, and, from the cigarette burns, former what? Intelligence officer? Spy? And why former? Anyway, link him to an