Free The Frumious Bandersnatch by Ed McBain Page A

were involved in a liquor store holdup, and he figured the protective coloration might help him. Actually, though, his costume would have fit in beautifully at Tamar Valparaiso’s launch party, where many of the music industry’s moguls were similarly dressed.
    â€œEver hear of this girl before?” Apted asked him.
    He had given up on Carella as a lost-cause landlubber.
    â€œWhat’s her name?” Hawes asked.
    â€œTamar Valentino,” Apted said.
    â€œNo. Is she famous or something?”
    â€œNot to me,” Apted said.
    â€œMe, neither,” Hawes said. “Steve!” he yelled over the roar of the wind. “You ever hear of a singer named Tamar Valentino?”
    â€œNo!” Carella yelled back. “Who is she?”
    â€œThe one who got snatched,” Apted said.
    â€œIf she got snatched, she must be somebody,” Hawes said reasonably.
    Carella was wondering if the FBI had already been notified.
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    â€œ I HAVE TO tell you the truth,” Sergeant McIntosh said, “I been with the Harbor Patrol Unit for twenty-two years now, this is the first time I ever caught a kidnapping.”
    â€œWe don’t catch many of them onshore, either,” Hawes said.
    â€œI know, anything we catch—other than immediately address-able—we’re supposed to notify the onshore locals. But ain’t a kidnapping federal stuff?”
    â€œIt could become,” Carella said.
    â€œI mean, wouldn’t this be considered ‘Special Maritime and Territorial’ jurisdiction?”
    â€œI really don’t know,” Carella said.
    â€œI know the Great Lakes are covered,” McIntosh said, “and the St. Lawrence River, and prob’ly the Mississippi and the Hudson…”
    â€œI couldn’t tell you.”
    â€œAnyway, what I did was raise the Coast Guard, who I figured would know.”
    â€œDid they?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œThe way I figure it,” Carella said, “there’s a state line down the middle of the river, and if the boat crossed that, then the Feds come in automatically.”
    â€œSometimes they come in if the case is really high profile,” Hawes said. “Like if this rock singer is somebody really important.”
    â€œWho is she, anyway?” McIntosh asked.
    â€œSomebody named Tamar Valentino,” Hawes said.
    â€œNever heard of her.”
    â€œMe, neither.”
    â€œSo scratch the FBI.”
    â€œUnless the boat crossed that state line,” Carella said.
    â€œExcuse me, gentlemen,” a man in a white uniform said, breaking into the little intimate law enforcement circle. “I’m Charles Reeves, Captain of the River Princess. I’m sorry to interrupt, but we’ve got a hundred and twelve guests aboard this vessel and we’ve been sitting here dead in the water ever since the incident occurred, waiting for some sort of clear indication that we can begin moving her back to port. Is there anyone here who can…?”
    â€œYou can move her,” Carella said.
    â€œYou are, sir?”
    â€œDetective Stephen Louis Carella. Eighty-seventh Squad.”
    â€œAnd you are authorized to…?”
    â€œIt’s our case, yes,” Carella said, and thought, So far. “This is my partner. Detective Cotton Hawes.”
    â€œThen I’ll get the engines started,” Reeves said dubiously.
    â€œYes, that’ll be fine,” Hawes said.
    â€œWe should be docking in about half an hour,” Reeves said. “Will you be finished here by then?”
    â€œFinished?”
    â€œWhat I’m asking is will I be able to disembark the passengers? The yacht was only leased for the night, you know, not the entire month of May.”
    Carella looked at him.
    â€œI mean, we all have jobs to do,” Reeves said. “I’ve never had anything like this happen before on any vessel I’ve commanded. Never.”
    â€œIt’ll be all