The True Detective by Theodore Weesner

Author:Theodore Weesner [Weesner, Theodore]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General Fiction, The True Detective
ISBN: 9781938231094
Publisher: Avon
Published: 1987-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 20

DULAC IS IN THE BATHROOM WHEN THE CALL COMES. Beatrice, coming to the door, tells him the duty officer is on the phone.

Getting himself together, going to the phone in the hall, he hears the officer explain that they have a call from a man who says he will speak only to the lieutenant, because he knows from the paper that the lieutenant is in charge of the case. Also, this guy says that he has to do the telephoning, because he will not give out his number. “Maybe he’s a crackpot,” the officer says.

“He wants my home number?”

“Right. He’s going to call back in a minute to see if you’ll give it out.”

“What did he sound like?”

“Sort of arrogant, maybe. He was—”

“Local?”

“It was a local call.”

“Give him my number. Tell him to call right away. Tell him I’ll be waiting.”

To Beatrice then, who is in the bedroom watching the Late Show and waiting, Dulac knows, he says he’s going downstairs to take a call, and he slips back into his shirt and pants.

“You mean about the little boy?” she says.

“I’m not sure,” he says. “Maybe.” He has no wish to tell her, no wish to build up hopes.

Downstairs in the kitchen, he has fixed a cup of cocoa—tearing a packet, heating a splash of water from the hot water faucet—before the telephone at the cookbook desk rings.

“Hullo,” he says.

“Lieutenant Dulac?” the man says.

“That’s right.”

“I just thought I should call,” the man says. “But I’m not going to identify myself. I want you to know that at the outset.”

“Okay,” Dulac says. “Can you tell me why you’re calling?”

“I saw it in the paper,” the man says. “About the missing boy. Then I just saw the mother on television.”

“Okay. Do you know the mother—or the boy? What is it you have?”

“Well, I’m reluctant to say. I don’t mean to be evasive. I just can’t afford to get involved in anything myself. I mean I want to help, but there are other considerations.”

“Okay,” Dulac says. “Okay. Just let me know what you have. We’ll talk about it.”

“I just want to be a good citizen,” the man says.

“Sir, do you have someone to report? A suspect?”

“That’s exactly what I have.”

“Do you know this person’s name?”

“Not really. I don’t think so. That is, he gave me a name, but I have a feeling it wasn’t the truth.”

“What name did he give you? Could you be more specific?”

“Let me back up a little if I can. Again, I’m sorry to be evasive.”

“Okay,” Dulac says.

“I’m gay,” the man says. “And I’m a professional. If this were to come out, it could cost me dearly. Financially. Professionally. At the same time, I want to be a good citizen, like anyone else. Am I making sense?”

“I think so,” Dulac says. “At the same time, you wouldn’t need to worry about your identity being disclosed by me; I don’t work like that.”

“That’s fine,” the man says. “It’s not a chance I’m willing to take, though. Sorry.”

“What is your profession—would you mind telling me that?”

“Come on, don’t play games now.

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