Second Deadly Sin by Lawrence Sanders

Author:Lawrence Sanders [Sanders, Lawrence]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Suspense
ISBN: 9780613141994
Publisher: Berkley
Published: 1977-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

14

CHIEF DELANEY SAT READING the Times in his study on Saturday morning, waiting patiently for nine o’clock, when, he figured, he could decently call Deputy Commissioner Ivar Thorsen at home. But his own phone rang fifteen minutes before the hour.

“Edward X. Delaney here.”

“Edward, this is Ivar. I just heard what happened. My God, right next door to a police station! Are you all right? Monica? The girls?”

“Everyone’s all right, Ivar. Thank you. No one was hurt.”

“Thank God for that. What did they get?”

Delaney told him. There was a silence for a moment. Then …

“How do you figure that, Edward?”

“It could have been just for the intrinsic value of Maitland’s last drawings. But I doubt that; they took Dukker’s sketch, too. I think it was the killer, or someone hired by the killer. Has Boone been reporting to you, Ivar?”

A brief silence again, then: “Yes, he has, Edward. I didn’t want to bother—”

“That’s all right. At least I don’t have to fill you in. The break-in happened during the preview of Maitland’s last show at the Geltman Galleries. They were all there—everyone connected with the case. But it was a mob scene, Ivar. Any one of them could have skinned out, cabbed up here, grabbed the drawings, and returned within half an hour. Or hired someone to do it.”

“Risky, Edward. Next door to a precinct house?”

“Sure, risky. So it must have been important. I think what we were hoping for happened: that Spanish woman and the young girl saw the killer on Friday. Either near the studio or actually in the house, maybe on the stairs. The killer sees the sketches, remembers the women, and figures maybe they can finger him. So he grabs the drawings, thinking that’ll end any chance we have of finding the witnesses. But he doesn’t know about the photostats I had made, or Officer Jason, who saw the women on Monday.”

“Who knew about the sketches?” Thorsen asked.

“All of them did,” Delaney said. “Except Dora and Emily Maitland, and they could have been told about them.”

“Talking about Dora and Emily …” Thorsen said. “I’ve got something for you. It could be something. It could be nothing. Our contact with J. Barnes Chapin called. Dora’s in the hospital. Emily found her this morning lying at the bottom of a cliff. In the back of their house.”

“I know the place. A steep slope down to the river.”

“Fell or pushed, the deponent knoweth not. Anyway, the lady’s got a busted arm, a torn ligament in her knee, and sundry cuts and bruises.”

“She had a snootful when I saw her at Geltman’s bash.”

“Edward, that must have been a very wet party.”

“It was.”

“So she fell?”

“Not necessarily,” Delaney said, remembering the scene Boone had reported witnessing between Saul Geltman, Dora and Emily Maitland. “Maybe someone gave her a gentle nudge.”

Thorsen sighed. “I’ll ask the Nyack blues to look into it. So where do we go from here?”

“I was going to call you,” Delaney said. “Here’s what we need …”

He spoke steadily for almost five minutes, carefully explaining the reasons for his requests.

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