The Mugger 87th Precinct Series, Book 2 - By Ed McBain Page 0,5

said. “I’m a big reader. I buy six newspapers every day. How do you like that? Bet you didn’t even know there was six papers in this city. I read them all, cover to cover. Never miss anything.”

Kling smiled, not knowing what to say.

“Yes, sir,” Bell went on, “and it certainly came as a shock to me and Molly when we read you got shot. I ran into your mother on Forrest Avenue a little while after that. She said her and your dad were very upset about it, but that’s to be expected.”

“Well, it was only a shoulder wound,” Kling said.

“Only a scratch, huh?” Bell said, grinning. “Well, I got to hand it to you, kid.”

“You said Forrest Avenue. Have you moved back to the old neighborhood?”

“Huh? Oh, no, no. I’m a hackie now. Got my own cab—medallion and everything. I usually operate in Isola, but I had a Riverhead call, and that’s how I happened to be on Forrest Avenue, and that’s how I happened to spot your mom. Yeah, sure.”

Kling looked at Bell again, realizing the “yachting cap” was simply his working headgear.

“I read in the papers where the hero cop got discharged from the hospital,” Bell said. “Gave your address and everything. You don’t live with the folks no more, huh?”

“No,” Kling said. “When I got back from Korea—”

“I missed that one,” Bell said. “Punctured eardrum—how’s that for a laugh? I think the real reason they rejected me was because of the schnoz.” He touched his nose. “So the papers said where your commanding officer ordered you to take another week’s rest.” Bell smiled. His teeth were very white and very even. There was an enviable cleft in his chin. It’s too bad about the nose, Kling thought. “How does it feel being a celebrity? Next thing you know, you’ll be on that television show, answering questions about Shakespeare.”

“Well…” Kling said weakly. He was beginning to wish that Peter Bell would go away. He had not asked for the intrusion, and he was finding it tiresome.

“Yep,” Bell said, “I certainly got to hand it to you, kid,” and then a heavy silence fell over the room.

Kling bore the silence as long as he was able. “Would you like a drink…or anything?” he asked.

“Never touch it,” Bell said.

The silence returned.

Bell touched his nose again. “The reason I’m here…” he said at last.

“Yes?” Kling prompted.

“Tell you the truth, I’m a little embarrassed, but Molly figured…” Bell stopped. “I’m married now, you know.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Yeah. Molly. Wonderful woman. Got two kids, another on the way.”

“That’s nice,” Kling said, his feeling of awkwardness increasing.

“Well, I might as well get right down to it, huh? Molly’s got a sister, nice kid. Her name is Jeannie. She’s seventeen. She’s been living with us ever since Molly’s mom died—two years now, it must be. Yeah.” Bell stopped.

“I see,” Kling said, wondering what Bell’s marital life had to do with him.

“The kid’s pretty. Look, I might as well level with you, she’s a knockout. Matter of fact, she looks just the way Molly looked when she was that age, and Molly’s no slouch—even now, pregnant and all.”

“I don’t understand, Peter.”

“Well, the kid’s been running around.”

“Running around?”

“Well, that’s what Molly thinks, anyway.” Bell seemed suddenly uncomfortable. “You know, she doesn’t see her dating any of the local kids or anything, and she knows the kid goes out, so she’s afraid she’s in with the wrong crowd, do you know what I mean? It wouldn’t be so bad if Jeannie wasn’t such a pretty kid, but she is. I mean, look, Bert, I’ll level with you. She’s my sister-in-law and all that, but she’s got it all over a lot of older dames you see around. Believe me, she’s a knockout.”

“Okay,” Kling said.

“So Jeannie won’t tell us anything. We talk to her until we’re blue in the face, and we don’t get a peep out of her. Molly got the idea of getting a private detective to follow her, see where she goes, that kind of thing. Bert, on the money I make, I can’t afford a private dick. Besides, I don’t really think the kid is doing anything wrong.”

“You want me to follow her?” Kling asked, suddenly getting the picture.

“No, no, nothing like that. God, would I come ask a favor like that after fifteen years? No, Bert, no.”

“What then?”

“I want you to talk to her. That way, Molly’ll be happy. Look, Bert, when a woman is carrying, she gets goofy ideas. Pickles and ice