Yesterday's News

the limp the killer had coming into the fight.”
    Hagan chewed the inside of his cheek, then shook his head. “You’re going on an assumption, too. You’re assuming the killer’s also the one who did your client, right?”
    “It would make sense.”
    “But it doesn’t.”
    “How come?”
    “Basic principle of homicide. Rust died by overdose, Coyne by violence, specifically a knife. Different methods entirely. A professional finds a way to kill, he stays with it because it works and he doesn’t get caught doing it. A nut, he finds a way he likes, he stays with that because he’s got to, the voice of his dead mother or whatever tells him to keep using it. The same person wouldn’t do Coyne one way, then Rust another. Variety isn’t his spice of life.”
    “How about an amateur?”
    Hagan said, “Amateur?”
    “Yeah. You said a pro and a nutcase would both stay consistent. How about an amateur?”
    “You figure Rust asked a bum in for hot cocoa Monday night?”
    “I figure maybe the big guy who did Coyne wasn’t a bum, remember? Also, if he knew killers stay consistent, what better way to disguise the crimes being related?”
    Hagan came forward in his chair. “I don’t see it that way, Cuddy.”
    “Which way do you see it?”
    “The way it happened. Shitbird gets knifed, depressed girl feels responsible and decides to chugalug her life.”
    “I want to talk to the mother of Dwight Meller.” Hagan’s face drained like somebody pulled a plug in his throat. “Why?”
    “If you’re being straight with me, it seems you’d tell me where I can find her. She’s not listed in the book, seems like she never has been.”
    His Adam’s apple rode up and down. “You ever kill anybody, Cuddy?”
    “Yes.”
    “Intentionally?”
    “Yes.”
    “How many?”
    “All of them.”
    “Well, I haven’t. Not ever, not once. The knee kept me out of the draft. I used to think it was a miracle the force would have me. Then came that night. Aside from the Meller boy, I never took a life. And Meller was unintentional. I killed him alright, but I never meant to.”
    I said, very quietly, “I’d still like to talk to his mother. You want me to waste a day checking welfare, water bills....”
    Hagan blinked, then blinked again, but I think more at what was inside his head than at me. “ Costigan Street , over on the north side. Number 57.”
    “All these years, and you still remember the address.”
    “Ought to. After that night, I drove by it every day for a month, trying to get up the courage to tell his mother I was sorry. Now get out.”
    I was reaching for the knob when the door opened and a youngish plainclothes cop stuck his head in. “Sorry, Captain, but you said you wanted to know when we got an ID on the swimmer in the alley.”
    “Go ahead. Mr. Cuddy was just leaving.”
    As the cop passed me, he said to Hagan, “Manos made him. Only had a nickname. ‘Yip.’”
    I closed my eyes and turned back around as Hagan said, “Vip?”
    I said, “It stood for ‘Very Important Person.’ Your star witness.”
    Hagan clenched his teeth. “Coincidence, Cuddy.”
    I shouted, “Oh, for crissake!”
    Hagan rose from his seat and pounded a fist on his desk. The paperwork and the young cop jumped about the same height. “The guy was a bum! They found him with an empty quart of rye still in his hand, facedown in the rain puddle. They get so soused, they can’t even tell they’re drowning.”
    “I was with the guy last night, Captain, remember? It was ten-thirty, maybe eleven. He didn’t have a bottle on him, and your liquor stores would all be closed by then.”
    Hagan really erupted. “You gave him some money, didn’t you?”
    I didn’t reply.
    “You gave him money so he’d talk to you, and he took it to some blind pig. You think a bum doesn’t know where to buy a bottle after-hours?”
    I didn’t want to hear the rest of it, but I’d pushed Meller down Hagan’s throat, and he had a right to do the same to me.
    “They sell him the rye, Cuddy, and he downs it, then goes belly-whopping in three inches of water. What the fuck did you think he was gonna do with your money, Saint John ? Buy himself some new threads, maybe a dry bed for the night? You fuckin sanctimonious asshole, you said you never killed anybody without meaning to? Well, stand proud, brother. You just got credited with your first.”
    I’d heard enough and left, the young cop’s mouth set for catching flies.

    If I had my