Worst Fears Realized

7

DINO WAS DOING A LITTLE OVER A HUNDRED miles an hour on the New York State Thruway when the flashing lights appeared in his rearview mirror. Stone reflected that Dino always drove as if he’d just stolen the car.

“Well, shit,” Dino said. He dug into the glove compartment for his flasher, set it on the dashboard, and plugged it into the cigarette lighter. When he saw the flashing light, the state trooper turned on his whoopers.

Dino slammed on his brakes, nearly causing a rear-end collision, then, in a spray of gravel, ground to a halt on the shoulder. He got out his badge, rolled down the window, and waited for the trooper to come to him. The man was on the radio, obviously checking Dino’s plates.

“Dino,” Stone said wearily, “the speed limit on the thruway is sixty-five miles an hour. Why can’t you drive seventy-five or eighty, like a normal human being?”

“Like you never drive fast,” Dino replied.

The beefy young trooper appeared in the driver’s window.

Dino held up his ID. “And what the fuck do you want?” he asked pleasantly.

“I want your driver’s license and your registration,” the trooper said, not quite as pleasantly.

“You’re looking at the only ID you’re going to get from me,” Dino said. “If you can read, you’ll see that I’m a lieutenant in the New York City Police Department. I’m on my way to Sing Sing on official business.”

“Your license and registration, and don’t make me ask you again,” the trooper said through gritted teeth.

Dino reached into an inside pocket for his cell phone, causing the trooper to jump back and put his hand on his pistol. “Tell you what,” he said, “let’s just call Colonel Joe O’Brien at the Poughkeepsie station and tell him that Trooper” – Dino squinted at the man’s name tag – “Warkowski is impeding a triple-homicide investigation of the NYPD by acting like a rookie asshole.” Dino started punching in a number.

“All right, all right,” the trooper said, holding his hands out in front of him. “Just slow it down, okay?”

“Tell you what, Warkowski,” Dino said. “You wait right here for a couple hours and you’ll see me going south again at a hundred and twenty.” Dino slammed the car into gear and left the trooper standing in a cloud of dust at the roadside.

“You really know how to make friends, Dino,” Stone said. “I’ve always said that about you.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Dino said, watching the needle on the speedometer pass a hundred.

“Do you really know a Colonel O’Brien in Poughkeepsie?”

“He spoke at a dinner I went to last year. We didn’t quite meet.”

In Poughkeepsie they made their way to Sing Sing Prison, showed their ID at the gate, and were directed to a parking spot.

“Anybody know we’re coming?” Stone asked, as they got out of the car.

“I called the warden’s office before we left. We’re to ask for the captain of the guard.”

They entered a door marked VISITORS, presented their IDs at the desk, and asked for the captain of the guard.

“You’ll have to check your weapons,” the desk clerk said.

Dino handed over his pistol, and Stone opened his coat to show that he was unarmed.

A thickly built, crew-cut, uniformed man in his fifties appeared in the reception room and waved Dino and Stone through a door, locking it behind him. “And you wanted to see…?” he asked, not bothering to introduce himself.

“Herbert Mitteldorfer, Captain,” Dino replied, looking at Stone and shrugging at the man’s coldness.

“Wait a minute,” the man said, picking up a wall phone in the hallway. “Johnson?” he said. “Bring Herbie Mitteldorfer down to reception one; he’s got visitors.” He hung up the phone and led them on down the hallway to another locked door.

“Is Mitteldorfer a trusty?” Dino asked the man.

“Yeah.”

“Was he, by any chance, out on the town last night?”

The captain stopped before a door. “He gets to shop for office supplies in the town; he’s always back inside by five P.M.”

“Yesterday, too?”

“Yesterday, too.”

He unlocked the door, let them walk into the room, and slammed it behind them.

Dino sat down in a steel chair and rested his elbows on the table. “What’s with that guy?” he asked. “Some reception for the NYPD, huh?”

“You didn’t see his name tag?” Stone asked.

“No.”

“His name is Warkowski,” Stone said.

“War…?” Dino stopped in mid-name.

“We’ll be lucky to get out of here without serving time,” Stone said.

Ten minutes of dead time passed before another door opened and a guard escorted a small man into the room.

“There you go, Herbie,” the guard said. “Let yourself out and lock the door behind you when you’re through.” He handed the prisoner a key.

Herbert Mitteldorfer was five-six, 130; he had gone bald on top and gray on the sides; his hair was cut short, not the longer, frizzier hair of Stone’s memory. He stared at Dino and Stone. “Well,” he said, “to what do I owe this great pleasure?”

“Sit down,” Dino said. “We want to ask you some questions.”

“I think I read in the papers that you, ah, retired, Mr. Barrington,” Mitteldorfer said, taking a seat. “Do you spend your time visiting prisoners now?”

“Only on special occasions,” Stone said. “I understand you’re a trusty here.”

“Since my second year inside,” Mitteldorfer replied. “I’m a trustworthy sort of fellow.”

Dino spoke up. “Where were you last night, Herbert?”

Mitteldorfer burst out laughing, and Stone had to restrain himself from joining him. “I think you could say I have an iron-clad alibi,” he replied.

“Yeah? Alibi for what?”

“You tell me; I’ve no idea why you’re here.”

“Tell me about your day yesterday.”

“Easy question. I rose at six, showered and breakfasted, then went to work. I broke forty-five minutes for lunch, then returned to work. I finished work at four-thirty, then wrote some letters and watched TV until dinner at six. After dinner I went to the library and read for two hours, then I returned to my cell and read myself to sleep.”

“Did you run any errands outside the prison yesterday?” Dino asked.

“Asked and answered,” Mitteldorfer replied.

“You’ve been here how long?”

“Just finished my twelfth year.”

“So you’ll have a parole hearing coming up soon?”

“Yes.”

“Well, unless you’d like me to show up at your hearing and tell the board what a dangerous little shit you still are, you’d better start answering my questions with a little more feeling.”

“I apologize,” Mitteldorfer replied, chastened. “I’ll be happy to answer anything you’d like to ask.”

“How often do you leave the prison?”

“Once or twice a week, depending on what errands have to be run.”

“What sort of errands do you run?”

“I buy stationery and office supplies; I go to the computer store; sometimes I’m allowed to do some personal shopping.”

“What sort of personal shopping?”

“I buy underwear and socks, batteries for my portable radio, a new toothbrush. Sometimes I’ll have an ice-cream cone; they don’t serve Häagen-Dazs in here.”

“Do you have a son?”

“No.”

“Any male relatives who are younger than you?”

“No, not in this country.”

“Where else?”

“In Germany; I have a nephew, my sister’s son.”

“What’s his age?”

“Oh, mid-thirties, I suppose. I only met him once, when he was a teenager, when I visited her.”

“What’s his name?”

“Ernst Hausman.”

“Has he ever been to this country?”

“No. I hear from my sister several times a year; I think she’d have told me if he came here.”

“Where does he live?”

“In Hamburg. I don’t have his address. He works at a cigarette factory, I believe.”

“Social work, huh? Helping out his fellow man.”

Mitteldorfer shrugged. “He doesn’t have my conscience.”

“Stone, you got any questions?”

“Mr. Mitteldorfer,” Stone said, “do you have any regular correspondents besides your sister?”

Mitteldorfer hesitated for a moment. “There’s a woman I once worked with,” he said finally. “We write from time to time.”

“Anyone else?”

“No.”

“Do you have any regular visitors?”

“Just the woman,” he replied.

“What is her name?”

“I do hope you won’t drag her into whatever this is about,” Mitteldorfer said, pleading in his voice.

“What is her name?” Dino demanded.

“Eloise Enzberg,” he replied softly.

“She live in the city?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

He gave Dino an address in the East Eighties. “I hope you won’t find it necessary to visit her. She’s a very proper sort of person, and she would be shocked if the police knocked on her door.”

“What sort of work do you do here?” Stone asked.

“I’m the office manager,” Mitteldorfer said. “I oversee the prison bookkeeping, and I hire and train other prisoners to do office work.”

Dino broke in. “Have you cut anybody’s throat lately, Herbert?”

Mitteldorfer looked horrified. “Please. I think you’re aware that my crime was one of passion. I’m not the sort of person ever to repeat it.”

“Does Ms. Enzberg know what you’re in here for?” Dino asked.

“Yes, she does. She read about it in the papers when you arrested me, and after the trial she wrote to me.”

Stone was becoming uncomfortable with this. Mitteldorfer was a mild little man, much different than Stone remembered. He seemed to have served his time well, and there was no point in persecuting him. “That’s it for me, Dino,” he said. “You ready to go?”

Dino ignored him. “Something I remember about you, now, Herbert,” he said. “You enjoyed killing your wife, didn’t you? She was fucking somebody else, and when you found out about it, you took pleasure in cutting her throat, didn’t you?”

Mitteldorfer looked at the tabletop. “Please,” he said.

“Let’s go, Dino,” Stone said.

“All right, get out of here,” Dino said to Mitteldorfer.

Mitteldorfer rose and, without another word, let himself out of the room. They heard him lock the door behind him.

Stone stood up and tried the door by which they had entered. “Locked,” he said. “I wonder how long it’ll be before Captain Warkowski remembers to let us out of here.”

It was nearly an hour before Captain Warkowski turned up and unlocked the door. Stone made a point of keeping his body between Warkowski and Dino.

Dino drove like a wild man all the way back to the city.