Hail to the chief by Ed McBain

Author:Ed McBain
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Police Procedural, Detective and Mystery Stories, Police, Mystery & Detective, Police - United States - Fiction, Fiction, 87th Precinct (Imaginary place) - Fiction, Women Sleuths, 87th Precinct (Imaginary place), General
ISBN: 9780394485812
Publisher: New York, Random House [1973]
Published: 1973-01-14T23:00:00+00:00

Nesbitt studied the gold-and-blue shield with great interest, and then looked up

and smiled again. 'Yes, Officer,' he said, 'how can I help you?'

'What's your name, young lady?' Kling asked.

'Toy,' the girl said.

'Toy?'

'Toy Wilke.'

'We'd like to ask you a few questions,' Carella said to Nesbitt. 'Mind if we sit

down?'

'Please join us,' Nesbitt said. 'Would you like some ice cream? Or a cup of

coffee or something?'

'Thank you, no,' Carella said, and sat in the booth alongside Toy. Kling sat

next to Nesbitt. 'Are you the president of a gang called the Yankee Rebels?'

Carella asked across the table.

'That's the name of our clique, that's correct,' Nesbitt said.

'We're trying to locate somebody named Midge,' Carella said. 'Would the name

happen to register?'

Toy seemed about to say something, but a sidelong glance from Nesbitt silenced

her.

'Midge,' Nesbitt said thoughtfully, and tented his hands, and considered the

name as though he'd just been invited to christen a battleship. 'Midge, Midge,'

he said. 'No, can't say that it rings a bell, Officer.'

'We have information that leads us to believe Midge belongs to your gang.'

'Really?' Nesbitt said. 'Toy, you know any member named Midge?'

'No,' Toy said, and bent over her glass, and put the straws between her lips,

and busied herself with the soda.

'Sorry we can't help you,' Nesbitt said. Then, as though to emphasize his

dismissal of the two men, he picked up his spoon, cut into the banana with it,

scooped a combination of chocolate sauce and cherry syrup into the bowl of the

spoon, and shoveled the entire dripping mixture into his mouth.

'We're not quite finished yet,' Carella said.

'Oh, sorry,' Nesbitt said, swallowing. He put the spoon down again, smiled his

eager, pleasant, cooperative smile, and said, 'Yes?'

'Anyone in your gang named Big Anthony?'

'Why, yes,' Nesbitt said.

'Know where we can find him?'

'Have you tried his house?'

'If you're referring to the apartment he shares with his mother, at 334 North

38th, yes, we've tried his house.'

'I guess he wasn't there.'

'That's right.'

'I don't know where he is,' Nesbitt said, and picked up the spoon again. He was

dipping it into a melting scoop of strawberry ice cream when Carella said, 'Does

he have a driver's license?'

'Who? Big? Sure, he does.'

'What kind of car does he drive?'

'He doesn't have a car.'

'But the gang has a car.'

'No, we don't have a car.'

'Do you have a pickup truck?'

'Yes, we have a pickup truck,' Nesbitt said. 'You'll excuse me, Officer, but I'm

not sure I understand where this line of questioning is going to.'

'Stick around,' Kling said.

Nesbitt smiled. 'I wasn't going no place, Officer.'

'That's right, you weren't,' Kling said. 'Not till we're through with you.'

'Of course,' Nesbitt said, 'I know my rights, and--'

'Save it,' Kling said curtly.

'I was going to say that maybe you ought to start advising me of them. I mean,

if this is going to be a big interrogation scene here, then how about--?'

'This is a field interrogation, and your rights aren't in jeopardy,' Kling said.

'What kind of pickup truck do you own?'

'A Chevy.'

'What year?'

'Sixty-four.'

'Where is it now?'

'I don't know which one of the members has it right this minute,' Nesbitt said,

and smiled. 'We're all allowed to drive it when we need it.

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