Postcard killers

Chapter 33

Jacob Kanon was standing and yel ing inarticulately at the enclosed glass cubicle where Albert, the security guard, had taken cover.

Dessie fumbled with the door and rushed out into the lobby.

"You're cal ing her right now!" the American detective was screaming.

"You're going to pick up the phone now and tel her I'm here, you fucking -"

"What are you doing?" she asked breathlessly, grabbing him by the shoulder.

Jacob Kanon spun around and stared at her. He fel silent in the middle of a word that sounded suspiciously like motherfucker, then breathed out.

"Have you heard from the police today?" he asked "What are they saying?

Tell me."

Dessie looked over her shoulder into the newsroom, then took a firm grip of the man's arm and pul ed him toward the outside door.

"Your credibility is already pretty low," she said, pushing him into the revolving door. "You won't make it any better by standing here shouting at poor Albert. And whatever did you break?"

They emerged into the sunshine.

"A wooden bench," the American said sul enly. "It hit one of the radiators."

She gave him a skeptical look, then burst out laughing.

"You're crazy," she said.