Free The Mugger by Ed McBain Page B

sitting duck with a gun in my bag.”
    “Still, we felt we should present the facts to you before—”
    “My father was a patrolman,” Eileen said. “Pops Burke, they called him. He had a beat in Hades Hole. In 1938, an escaped convict named Flip Danielsen took an apartment on Prime and North Thirtieth. When the police closed in, my father was with them. Danielsen had a Thompson submachine gun in the apartment with him, and the first round he fired caught my father in the stomach. My father died that night, and he died painfully, because stomach wounds are not easy ones.” Eileen paused. “I think I’ll take the job.”
    Byrnes smiled. “I knew you would,” he said.
    “Will we be the only pair?” Eileen asked Willis.
    “To start, yes. We’re not sure how this’ll work. I can’t follow too close, or Clifford’ll panic. And I can’t lag too far behind, or I’ll be worthless.”
    “Do you think he’ll bite?”
    “We don’t know. He’s been hitting in the precinct and getting away with it, so chances are he won’t change his m.o.—unless this killing has scared him. And from what the victims have given us, he seems to hit without any plan. He just waits for a victim and then pounces.”
    “I see.”
    “So we figured an attractive girl walking the streets late at night, apparently alone, might smoke him out.”
    “I see.” Eileen let the compliment pass. There were about four million attractive girls in the city, and she knew she was no prettier than most. “Has there been any sex motive?” she asked.
    Willis glanced at Byrnes. “Not that we can figure. He hasn’t molested any of his victims.”
    “I was only trying to figure what I should wear,” Eileen said.
    “Well, no hat,” Willis said. “That’s for sure. We want him to spot that red hair a mile away.”
    “All right,” Eileen said.
    “Something bright, so I won’t lose you—but nothing too flashy,” Willis said. “We don’t want the Vice Squad picking you up.”
    Eileen smiled. “Sweater and skirt?” she asked.
    “Whatever you’ll be most comfortable in.”
    “I’ve got a white sweater,” she said. “That should be clearly visible to both you and Clifford.”
    “Yes,” Willis said.
    “Heels or flats?”
    “Entirely up to you. You may have to…Well, he may give you a rough time. If heels hamper you, wear flats.”
    “He can hear heels better,” Eileen said.
    “It’s up to you.”
    “I’ll wear heels.”
    “All right.”
    “Will anyone else be in on this? I mean, will you have a walkie-talkie or anything?”
    “No,” Willis said, “it’d be too obvious. There’ll be just the two of us.”
    “And Clifford, we hope.”
    “Yes,” Willis said.
    Eileen Burke sighed. “When do we start?”
    “Tonight?” Willis asked.
    “I was going to have my hair done,” Eileen said, smiling, “but I suppose that can wait.” The smile broadened. “It isn’t every girl who can be sure at least one man is following her.”
    “Can you meet me here?”
    “What time?” Eileen asked.
    “When the shift changes. Eleven forty-five?”
    “I’ll be here,” she said. She uncrossed her legs and rose. “Lieutenant,” she said, and Byrnes took her hand.
    “Be careful, won’t you?” Byrnes said.
    “Yes, sir. Thank you.” She turned to Willis. “I’ll see you later.”
    “I’ll be waiting for you.”
    “Good-bye now,” she said, and she left the office.
    When she had gone, Willis asked, “What do you think?”
    “I think she’ll be okay,” Byrnes said. “She’s got a record of fourteen subway-masher arrests.”
    “Mashers aren’t muggers,” Willis said.
    Byrnes nodded reflectively. “I still think she’ll be okay.”
    Willis smiled. “I think so, too,” he said.
    In the squadroom outside, Detective Meyer was talking about cats.
    “The tally is now up to twenty-four,” he told Temple. The damnedest thing the 33rd has ever come across.”
    Temple scratched his chin. “And they got no lead yet,