The Prodigal Son(36)
Today Delia was wearing a bright mauve angora sweater with a knobby tweed jacket and skirt in dull reds and yellows, and she had slung the most amazing necklace of what looked like dyed and painted sewing spools around her shoulders. Everyone snuck peeks — somehow the word had gotten around that she and Davina had had a spat about clothes, so no one had the courage to stare, and of course no one in his right mind would comment on her clothes beyond telling her they were gorgeous. But not, they divined, today.
“Certainly, Carmine,” she said heartily.
“Donny,” Carmine said, looking almost as catlike as the Commissioner, “you receive your baptism of fire by interviewing the Parsons — all five of them, plus five wives — who are at the Cleveland Hotel and not pleased at being told they can’t leave town. You have an appointment at two this afternoon, which gives you this morning and lunchtime to read up on them. My notes on the Ghost case will be a help — I’ve put them on your desk and marked the relevant pages. After you’re satisfied there’s nothing more to be gotten out of them, let them go back to New York City. Then I want you to see the two Gentleman Walkers at the banquet — Dave Feinman and Greg Pendelton.”
He looked at John Silvestri. “And that’s it for the moment sir. Anything I’ve forgotten?”
“If there is, I can’t see it.” The Commissioner rubbed his hands together. “Now we can have some breakfast.”
It felt odd to be promoted to the Captain’s sidekick, Buzz thought as he followed Carmine into the most cheerful of the interview rooms — which wasn’t saying much. It still stank of sweat and fear, it still had that hard cop look and feel to it.
Dr. Jim Hunter was already seated in the suspect’s chair, his head in a massive book whose pages he riffled as a teller did assorted bank notes. If he were genuinely reading, then he got through a page at a glance. As the two men came in he stood.
“Dr. Hunter,” Carmine said, extending his hand. “This is Sergeant Buzz Genovese.”
“A pleasure,” said Hunter, sitting and closing the book.
“As I would like to record our conversation, would you like to have a lawyer of your choice present?” Carmine asked.
The brows lifted above tranquil eyes. “Am I under arrest?”
“No.”
“Then why reschedule to stuff a fourth person in an already crowded room? A recorded conversation surely protects me as much as it assists your case,” Jim Hunter said. “Let’s get on with it.”
Carmine switched the tape on. “Monday, January six, nineteen sixty-nine, time oh-nine-hundred-and-two. Present are Dr. James Keith Hunter, Captain Carmine Delmonico, and Sergeant Marcello ‘Buzz’ Genovese.” He leaned forward, linking his hands together loosely and resting them on the table.
“Dr. Hunter, please tell me what you know about Dr. Millicent Hunter’s tetrodotoxin. I want every word of every exchange that went on between you about this substance, no matter how unimportant it might seem. This is a fact-finding exercise, Doctor, and your own profession indicates that you understand the significance of all the facts. If we are to get to the bottom of this affair, we need everything. Please proceed with that in mind.”
The eyes, Buzz was thinking, are amazing in a face that doesn’t bear much — if any — resemblance to a gorilla. I wonder why they called him that when he was a kid? He doesn’t have huge nostrils or a flat nose, and a gorilla’s eyes are black and fill the whole of its visible orbit — unhuman. This man’s eyes are as human as eyes can get — the color! In this too-bright room, a brilliant darkish green. Cognisant as few men’s eyes are; as if he already knows everything that the interview will unearth. He too folded his hands on the table, their pink palms a striking contrast to the rest of his skin.
“First, you must understand that my wife and I work in very different fields,” he began, his voice low-pitched and calm. “After so many years together, we don’t share every detail the way we did in earlier times, but we always know what each other is doing. Millie — I will call my wife that — is interested in the biochemistry of neural breakdowns. By that, I mean localized breakdowns that affect only one part of the body or one organ, as well as generalized breakdowns that end in shutting the whole nervous system down. It isn’t largely known, and she may not have told you, but her grant ultimately originated with a government agency that is interested in nerve gases like those disseminated on the battlefields of the First World War, and toxins that might be put into, for example, a town water supply. If you want further information, I can’t help you — it will depend on your security clearances.”