Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, Vol. 108, No. 3 & 4. Whole No. 661 & 662, September/October 1996

Hard Times by Barbara Owens

© 1996 by Barbara Owens

A former Edgar Award winner, and an EQMM Department of First Stories author, Barbara Owens has been featured regularly in EQMM since 1978. The Skovich and Hacker detecting team, however, is of relatively recent origin. The idea for the forty-something Skovich and his young partner Hacker came to Ms. Owens in 1992 and hasn’t let go of her since.

They looked out of place in a busy squad room accustomed to society’s dregs — four elderly men aligned on a bench, plainly but neatly dressed. Becker came back from the front desk, said they’d informed him they wanted to speak to a detective and that it was none of his business what it was about.

Hank Skovich cupped his swollen jaw and eyed them sourly. “Looks like a senility lineup. Give them to somebody else.”

“Nobody else available right now,” Becker responded cheerfully. “They’re all yours.”

Terry Hacker was studying the old men with amused interest. “I think I’ve seen them before. Aren’t they the old guys who stake out one of those benches in the park down the street?”

“I don’t know,” Skovich sighed. “Okay, Becker, send them back.”

They came in single file. Skovich and Hacker pulled four side chairs into a semicircle around their facing desks and the old men sat, straight and smiling. Hacker made the introductions. One of the four, a balding gentleman with a sharp chin, nodded and cleared his throat.

“We’ll hold onto our names, if it’s all the same to you, until we see how you boys take to what we’ve got to say,” he announced in a whiskey voice. “Then if you don’t see things our way, we’re outta here and nobody’s the worse for it, know what I mean?”

Skovich shifted irritably. “Sir, if you have information regarding a crime, that’s what we’re here for. Let’s don’t waste time.”

The old man’s eyes were blue and faded, but there was still a sparkle there. He gave Skovich a sympathetic grin.

“Got a bad toothache, haven’t you, sonny? Looks like you feel rotten. Well, be glad you still got your own. Just have it dug out, did you?”

Skovich winced at the thought, but found himself muttering, “Wisdom tooth. Going to come out as soon as the infection lets go.”

The old man asked and his three friends nodded with understanding. Skovich suddenly felt a little more kindly. “So what can we do for you?”

The old man leaned forward eagerly, grasping the desk’s edge with both hands. “We want to let you know about a crime. Hasn’t happened yet but it’s gonna. The bank on Central, just around the corner, is gonna be robbed.”

“You mean Citizens Bank?” Hacker asked.

“That’s the one. Gonna get hit.”

Skovich cocked an eyebrow. Another harmless crank. “When’s this going to happen?” he asked. “And how is it that you know about it?”

“Gonna be Thursday,” the old man answered. “Or Friday. It depends.”

Suddenly another voice — the old duffer with the polka-dot tie. “P.T., I told you I can’t do it Thursday,” he protested in a mushy stage whisper. “My daughter’s coming up that day.”

The sharp-chinned man stiffened, whipping toward him. “Shut up, Marsh! Now look what you’ve done. This is all for you, you damn fool!”

The detectives exchanged looks. The corner of Hacker’s mouth twitched. “You men are going to rob the bank?”

P.T. threw up his hands and slumped back in his chair. “Well, you screwed it up, Marsh, just like I knew you would. Didn’t I say let me do the talking?” He exhaled a long sigh. “Okay, officers, here’s the story. I’m P.T., the bigmouth is Marsh, that’s John on the end, and this fat one here is Sid.”

Sid lunged to his feet to shake the detectives’ hands. Sid had a hot glint in his eye. “It was my idea,” he announced loudly.

P.T. said, “Sit down, Sid,” and Sid sat. P.T. sighed again. “Now we’re not crooks, not a one of us, and we got a reason for this. That’s why we’re here. Detectives, we got to get Marsh some new teeth. He broke his old ones and he can’t hardly eat a thing. So we figured out how much new ones is gonna cost and that’s all we’re gonna steal, right down to the penny.”

He fished into his jacket and pulled out a wrinkled slip of paper. Fascinated, the pain in his jaw all but forgotten, Skovich took it.

“And we’ll pay it back as fast as we can,” P.T. went on. “But our problem is, we’re not as young as we used to be, know what I mean? And we don’t want anybody getting hurt, least of all us if we’re a tad slow making our getaway. So we figured if we told you about it first, you might let us go on and do it without shooting us dead. Or sending us to the pen. That’s no place for men our age.” He was smiling, clearly pleased with his reasoning. “So what do you say? We got us a deal?”

The detectives were momentarily speechless. Skovich finally roused himself. “Now look here,” he began, “we can’t make a deal like that. What you’re proposing is a crime, no matter how old you are.”

P.T. slumped again. His lip curled. “Then I guess we’ll just have to take our chances, boys,” he said. “Our men in blue are heartless when it comes to the common comforts of life.”

“I’ve seen you all before,” Hacker put in. “You live around here, don’t you?”

Sid tilted forward, eyes burning. “The Cozy Corners Retirement Home,” he spat out. “How’d you like to live in a place called Cozy Corners?”

“Never mind, Sid,” P.T. advised wearily. “They don’t care. Try to be a good citizen and this is what you get.”

“Wait a minute,” Skovich protested, wondering why he felt guilty. “Surely you men have pensions and health care of some sort. There must be another way to get money for the teeth.”

“Well, sure there is,” P.T. snapped, shooting erect again. “That’s already in the works. But, you see, this is the second set Marsh has busted this year. You don’t know yet, sonny, but it’s hard times when you get old. Lose your sayso. Other people tell you what’s gonna happen to you. Yeah, Marsh’ll get his new teeth but nobody’s in a hurry about it. It’s drug on now for a coupla months and no end in sight. I tell you, there’s not many pleasures left when you get this old, but eating is one of them and Marsh is real partial to that.” Marsh grinned agreement, baring naked pink gums.

“Now I know he ought to cut out hard candy and cracking his choppers on it,” P.T. said. “But seems to me a man ain’t a man unless he can make his own decisions, know what I mean?”

Everyone was silent for a moment. “Maybe we can come up with another way,” Skovich said finally. “You men don’t really want to rob a bank, do you?”

Sid shot forward. “I do!”

“Well,” P.T. said, “I have to admit it sounded like fun. Break the monotony, you know.”

“I’ve got a cousin who’s a dentist,” Hacker volunteered. “Maybe we can work something out with him.”

Skovich stood up. “Good idea. Come on back to the lunchroom for coffee and donuts. Let my partner make a call.”

The old men rose in unison. “No coffee for me, thanks,” P.T. announced. “I’ve drunk an ocean of it in my time, but these days it makes my eyes bug out. I never turn down a donut, though. Whaddaya say, Marsh? You can gum a donut, can’t you?”

And they followed after Skovich and Hacker in single file.

The deal was arranged with Hacker’s dentist cousin and everyone but Sid looked relieved. The gathering turned festive. The partners learned that all four men were in their late seventies. P.T. had worked the docks, Sid trained boxers, Marsh labored for the railroad, and John had been a nurseryman. John also didn’t talk.

“Well, he does sometimes,” P.T. explained. “But mostly he’s already said everything he has to say in this life.” John, munching donuts, nodded seriously.

They spent most of their time on the park bench to keep up on what was going on in the world. “Betcha we know more what’s doing in the neighborhood than you boys do,” P.T. boasted, and the partners had to agree he was probably right.

They were clearly delighted to be in such close proximity to the excitement of police work.

“You working on that lady who got killed in her apartment on Towne Place?” P.T. inquired, chin quivering. Skovich said they were.

“We heard it was like a burglary gone bad,” P.T. offered. The detectives were evasive and P.T.’s eyes began to spark. “We saw that lady walking her dog every day. Marsh had a kind of crush on her. She seemed nice. Ugly dog, though.” His chest expanded visibly. “Anything we can do to help you boys out, anytime, just say the word. I figure we owe you now.”

“Okay,” Skovich said without enthusiasm. “That would be great.”

Sid, depressed because the bank job had fallen through, suddenly brightened. “We could keep an eye out, feed you stuff. Like — what do they call them, P.T.? We’ve seen them on TV.”

“Snitches!” P.T. crowed. “Hey, we can be your snitches. How’d that be?”

The detectives exchanged helpless looks. “We can always use information,” Skovich said lamely.

When the men departed, single file, the partners watched them go. “The Hard Times Boys,” Skovich mused with real affection. “A real over-the-hill gang if I ever saw one.”

“And you know,” Hacker responded cheerfully, “that could be you one of these days.”

Skovich’s mood continued downward towards glum as he and Hacker ventured out for lunch. He kept seeing himself with a sharp grizzled jaw and bare gums.

“Don’t forget your medicine,” Hacker reminded while they waited for their burritos and refried beans to arrive.

“I don’t want to take the damned medicine.”

“Then don’t take it.” Hacker smiled cheerfully. “Walk around with an infected tooth, I don’t care.”

After a respectably defiant moment, Skovich took his medicine. “You ever worry about getting old, Terry?”

“Naw,” Hacker said.

Skovich glanced at his partner’s smooth young face, his plentiful blond hair, and snapped, “No, I guess you wouldn’t, would you, punk? You’re barely out of diapers. Think you’ll live forever. Well, trust me, kid, senility will be on you before you know it. It’s breathing down my neck right now.”

Hacker grinned on, unruffled. “Hank, you’re forty years old and all you’ve got is a toothache. You’ll probably last another year or two, so get off my case, okay?”

The jalapeños arrived, hot enough to paralyze everything in him, pounding tooth included. Skovich brightened. “I guess you’re right,” he admitted sheepishly. “Every male ancestor I know of lived past ninety and kept most of the sense he was born with. I won’t give up yet.”

The conversation soon turned towards Hacker’s love life. Skovich had grown resigned to the parade of women. Each was trumpeted to be The One, and each eventually drifted off into memory. Sometimes it puzzled Hacker.

“I really want to settle down and have a family,” he had confessed during one long dark night on stakeout. “I had a good one growing up, so I have no hangups. But it’s a big thing, you know? What if I make a mistake? Get hooked up and The One is just around the corner?”

The current applicant was Pam, a travel agent, and over lunch they agreed that her occupation was a definite plus.

“All those cut-rate vacations,” Hacker enthused through nachos. “The Alps, the Far East. Egypt. Always wanted to ride a camel through Egypt. She might even swing something for you. Where’s the one place you’d like to go?”

“Omaha,” Skovich grinned after a moment’s thought. “Jet me off to Omaha.”

Hacker had to laugh. “Sorry, can’t do that. Hank Skovich let loose in his Bermuda shorts and long black socks. That would offend Omaha.”

And with that vision shimmering in their minds, the partners went back to work.

Lorena Miner had lived on the second floor of an ageing four-story building. She was a widow with no children and no close family. Her income had been adequate but not plentiful. Everyone who knew her liked her, a quiet elderly lady with simple tastes. She had been friendly but not careless; all her acquaintances assured the authorities that she would never permit a stranger to enter her apartment. Yet there had been no signs of forced entry when her body was found. The front door, however, was unlocked.

The detectives were sure it was a case of interrupted burglary. Jewelry and small items were missing from the apartment. Also cash from her purse, although her two credit cards were left untouched. Mrs. Miner was wearing a coat and had been strangled with her muffler.

“Came back from walking the dog,” Skovich speculated, “and surprised the guy inside.”

Hacker agreed. “Why else would the dog still be trailing his leash?”

“A lot of lowlifes around preying on older women living alone.”

“Yeah, but how did he manage to get inside?”

Rich and Tina Caputo had been Mrs. Miner’s next-door neighbors. They were graduate students at the local university and were absent when the first round of police interviews were done. Rich Caputo buzzed the detectives into the small barren lobby and opened the door to 2C when they knocked. He was a tall, earnest-looking young man with shaggy hair and glasses. His wife was in class, he said.

“Just checking the neighbors again to see if we can come up with something,” Skovich told him. “I understand you were gone when the police came around before.”

Caputo wore the frazzled expression of a stressed student, but he looked Skovich directly in the eye. “We were out of town all that week. My wife’s father died, and we went home for the funeral. You can check that out.” He shrugged at Skovich’s quizzical look. “I assume everyone’s a suspect until the guy is caught.” He and his wife had lived in the building just under a year and knew Mrs. Miner only slightly. “We’re on campus most of the time so we didn’t see her that much. She seemed nice, very quiet, hardly knew she was there.” He had been inside her apartment twice, both times to carry groceries for her when they met coming into the building.

“She have many visitors?”

“Like I said, we’re gone most of the time. Have you talked to Mrs. Halloran? She’s on the first floor somewhere and they were pretty good friends, I think, so she could probably tell you more than I can.”

The detectives asked about the security in the building. Caputo said it was okay for its age. “You need a key to get into the lobby. There are two back doors in the basement, but the management’s pretty good about keeping them locked. You can get outside if you need to but no one can get in.”

“Unless they’ve been buzzed in from the lobby,” Hacker reminded him.

“Yeah, that’s true. Once you’re inside you’ve got the run of the place.”

“That happen often? You get people going door to door?” Skovich was thinking of Mickey Wise, whose specialty was foisting nonexistent insurance policies on the elderly and gullible. Every time they put him away he popped back out again and took up where he left off. Mickey was out now, he recalled.

But Caputo said, “Not to my door. Mostly students and older people live here because of the low rents. Nobody’s got much money, and we’re all pretty careful. We know everyone in the place, at least by sight. It’s nice and quiet. Don’t have much traffic going in and out.”

“How about parties, Rich? You let off steam now and then when the pressure gets too high?”

Caputo allowed himself a small smile. “We’ve had a few friends over, sure, but no time or money for parties, man.”

“Mind giving me a list of these friends?”

With the list in hand, the detectives thanked him and left, passing the yellow police tape across the door of 2B.

“Anything?” Skovich asked.

Hacker said, “Don’t think so. How about you?”

“No. Alibi’s too good. But it might pay us to look into the friends.”

Mae Halloran opened the door with one hand firmly gripping a cane and a fierce-faced white cat cuddled in her other arm. She gazed up at them from under fluffy gray bangs and said, “Oh, I didn’t expect you to be so big!”

She ushered them into a small overstuffed living room and planted them side by side on a sofa, lowering herself into a facing chair and transferring the cat to her lap. The cat glared at Skovich and hissed.

“Stop that, Lovey,” Mrs. Halloran admonished. “You’ll have to excuse her, I’m afraid. She doesn’t make friends.”

She wasn’t sure how much she could help them. She had already told the first officers everything she knew.

“I found her, you know. We were supposed to watch a certain television program together, and when she didn’t come down I called her, but she didn’t answer.” She sighed. “At our age you never know what will happen, so I took the elevator up to see if she was all right. When I found the door unlocked I knew something was wrong. Lorena never left her door open. So I just peeked in a little and... well, I saw her lying there. I didn’t go all the way in. I couldn’t. I came right back here and called the police.” Her eyes filled. “Poor Lorena. She was such a good friend. For twelve years. I’m sure going to miss her.”

“I know you’ve been asked this before,” Hacker said gently, “but can you think of anyone who might have done this?”

“No sir, I can’t. Most of us older folks here don’t socialize much except with each other. Lorena was more independent. She tried to get out and about as much as she could. I went with her sometimes, but she was more able than me, you see.” She thumped her cane hard on the floor as if to punish it. The cat spat at Skovich again. He gave it a baleful look and got one in return. Hacker grinned.

The old woman reinforced Rich Caputo’s contention that people off the street were not a problem in the building. One time, years ago, a man came through pretending to be a repairman, but no one let him in. She heard later that he’d been arrested and put in jail.

“We’re not that old or foolish. No one would let a stranger into their apartment. And Lorena most certainly wouldn’t have. She was very careful, Lorena was.” Her eyes moistened again.

“Maybe it was someone she knew,” Skovich suggested. The white cat seemed to sneer.

“The thing is, she didn’t know that many people outside this building. All her family was gone, you know. That’s why she and I kind of took care of one another. I have a son but he doesn’t live close-by, so we made up our own little family. Lorena ran errands for me when she was out — that’s if my leg wasn’t up to going with her. And when she was in the hospital a few days last year getting some tests I took care of Butch for her. Went up and fed him, played with him to keep him from getting lonesome. I would have brought him down here but he and Lovey don’t get along.” She smoothed the white cat’s fur. “It wasn’t Butch’s fault, it was Lovey’s. She didn’t take to Butch at all.”

Meeting the cat’s cold green eyes, Skovich wasn’t at all surprised.

“They took Butch to the pound,” Mrs. Halloran said with a catch in her voice. “I expect he got a good home, don’t you?”

“I’m sure he did,” Hacker said quickly, before Skovich could open his honest mouth.

She was hugging the cat now, tears beginning to fall.

“I certainly hope you catch the man. Lorena never hurt a soul. Just watched television and read her books. She did lovely needlepoint. Do you know—” She cleared her throat. “Did you know he took the rings right off her fingers? Who would do a thing like that?”

After receiving her promise that she would call if she remembered anything else, the partners eased themselves from the apartment and into their car. While Skovich gulped a couple of antacids Hacker observed quietly, “This is a good neighborhood. Fairly low crime rate. A nice old lady should feel safe living here. If we’re lucky enough to catch this guy, I think I’d like to impress that on him before we take him in. Inflict some pain, you know? That might make me feel good.”

“That’s police brutality,” Skovich told him. “I’d have to stop it if I saw it.”

“I never said I’d do it. Just said I’d like to.”

“And I said if I saw it. I never said I’d be looking right at you.”

The first item on the agenda for the following morning was to track down Mickey Wise.

“Mickey’s never hurt anyone before,” Skovich reasoned, “just ran his insurance scams and disappeared. But who knows what he might do if given the opportunity?”

Hacker looked dubious. “I don’t have my heart set on him, but it’s worth a shot.”

As they rounded the corner of the station, heading for their car, a sharp “Psst!” brought them up short, tensing. Hands dropping towards holsters, they swung to see P.T. stepping from the shrubbery.

Skovich relaxed. “Oh God,” he muttered. “Again?”

The old man was alone and beaming. “Bet you thought we’d forgot, didn’t you? Nossir, we talked it over last night and here’s what we came up with. I told you, we kept an eye on this lady because Marsh thought she was cute. Okay, she walked her dog every day between four and four-thirty. Sharp. Always took the same route — down Piedmont, through the park, back up Piedmont, got it? She had her hair done every Tuesday at the Hair Today beauty parlor on Copeland. Might turn up somebody suspicious there, you think? She bought her groceries on Friday from the U-Save Market on Rochester, and every coupla weeks she went to the library on Willow. She carried her books in a little bag with the name of the library on it. Oh yeah, and Sid says to tell you there’s been a ratty-looking guy in the park a few times lately. Little fella with greasy dark hair and a leather jacket that says ‘More Power’ on it.” He leaned towards them eagerly. “You got all that? You didn’t write it down.”

Skovich tried not to smile, wondering what undercover vice cop Overfelt would say if he knew he’d just been turned in.

“I got it up here,” he said seriously, tapping his temple. “Doesn’t pay to write too much down. You never know. And stay away from the guy in the park. We know about him. We’re watching him.”

“Well, that’s good,” P.T. said. He glanced nervously over each shoulder. “Not too safe to be seen together, I guess. Someone might catch on. I’d better get going.” He wagged a warning finger under Hacker’s nose. “You got a good boss here. Pay attention to him. That’s how you learn things, understand?”

Hacker blinked. “He’s not my—” he began.

“Thanks, P.T.,” Skovich broke in smoothly. “Don’t worry about him. He’s a good one. Catches on fast.”

“We’ll let you know when we got more,” P.T. said, and he was gone, scuttling along the side of the building. Skovich turned back towards their car.

“You’re not my boss,” Hacker complained, falling into step. “Why’d you let him think that?”

“Hey, what difference does it make?” Skovich grinned. “It was an honest mistake. He could obviously see I have an air of authority about me.”

Hacker snorted. “Or could obviously see that you’re the old guy.”

“Wasn’t it just yesterday you were telling me I’m only forty and all that crap?”

Hacker shouldered him aside and slid into the driver’s seat. “I try to stay flexible in my thinking,” he said. “Pick a side and I’ll be on it.”

They tracked Mickey Wise to a deli on Broad Street. Mickey was young, brash, and charming, adept at parting senior citizens from their hard-earned dollars for insurance policies that never materialized. In his past, Mickey had even been known to convince at least one elderly widow to insure her precious parakeet for an astounding sum. Mickey was enjoying a corned beef on rye when they arrived, and he didn’t object when the partners slid into his booth to join him.

“How’s the insurance business, Mickey?” Skovich greeted him.

The boyish shine dimmed in Mickey’s eyes. “I’m out of that business, detective, sir,” he answered earnestly. “I’ve learned my lesson. I’m working for my uncle in the trucking business now. You’re looking at a solid citizen and I owe it all to you two.”

“Well, that’s swell,” Skovich said. “You haven’t by any chance been visiting friends at 1012 Towne Place recently, have you?”

Mickey swallowed carefully before replying. “Hey, I know what happened there. Some poor old woman got killed. Don’t look to me for that. Even back when I was a bad guy I never hurt anyone. It’s not in me.”

“Thanks for the testimonial,” Hacker told him. “But humor us, okay? Where were you a week ago Thursday? All day.”

Mickey’s smile was more of a smirk. “Well, you’ll pardon me if I spare you the details, but I was on my honeymoon. I got married the Sunday before that and my sweet bride and I went to Hawaii for a week. Check it out. I told you, I’m a changed man.”

Mickey’s story held. The airline confirmed passage, and the hotel in Hawaii had them registered in the bridal suite for eight days. Faxed pictures of Mickey were identified as the proud bridegroom.

Hacker sighed. “Oh well, he’ll be coming back to us one of these days anyway.”

“Oh yeah,” Skovich agreed. “He’s got two mouths to feed now.”

The initial interviews with tenants in Mrs. Miner’s building had come up with a record for one. His name was Darcy Lundgren, and he’d been convicted some years past for an assault on an elderly woman because her dog persisted in using Lundgren’s yard as a public facility. It didn’t sound too promising, but the partners went to see him anyway. He had, after all, landed the woman in the hospital.

Lundgren turned out to be an ageing, soft-spoken man, partially blind.

“I knew her from the building, sure, but I never said more than hello to her,” he told them.

“How about her dog? We understand you don’t like dogs very much.”

Lundgren sighed. “That was a long time ago. I had a drinking problem back then, lost my wife and kids because of it. I’ve been sober for almost twenty years now. I’ve got a good pension and I mind my own business. Ask anyone who knows me. I’m not the same man I used to be.”

They believed him. “Too many bad guys reforming on us,” Skovich groused on their way back to the car. “Keep this up and we’ll be out of a job.”

Nothing was opening up on this case, so for the next few days the partners occupied themselves with others. Hacker was pleased that Skovich’s tooth continued to improve.

“You know, I think I’m going to pull you through this case all in one piece,” he beamed. “Maybe your bad luck is over.”

Skovich munched an antacid. “Let’s go back and talk to Mrs. Halloran again,” he suggested. “She’s the closest link we’ve got to Lorena Miner. Maybe we can help her to remember something she forgot.”

Four old men rose in unison from their park bench to hail them as the detectives cruised past. Skovich reluctantly stopped the car and they clustered at its windows.

“I know it’s risky to be seen talking to you,” P.T. said, “but we just remembered this morning seeing that lady walking with someone a coupla times. Some young guy. Don’t know if it means anything, but she was usually by herself unless the lady with the cane was with her.”

“Did it look like he was harassing her?”

“No, they was talking friendly.” P.T. bobbed eagerly.

“How we doing? Is that a good tip?”

“Could be,” Skovich answered cautiously. “What did this guy look like?”

The old men conferred a minute. “Not too tall,” P.T. announced. “Nowhere near as big as you boys. Early twenties prob’ly, light hair. Got a round face, kind of soft-looking. Walked hunched over with his hands in his pockets.” The others nodded affirmation. “Wore some kind of dark jacket, kind of like a letter jacket. Dark blue or gray, I think it was.”

“Okay, thanks,” Skovich said. “We’ll get on it.”

Marsh leaned close to Hacker’s window and bared his gums. “Gonna get my new teeth this afternoon,” he mumbled. “Really appreciate what you done.”

“My pleasure,” Hacker assured him. “But lay off the hard candy now, will you? Try something soft instead.”

Mrs. Halloran seemed pleased to see them. The white cat did not. When Skovich asked her if she’d go through Mrs. Miner’s apartment with them, her eyes clouded.

“Do I have to? I did that with the first officers and it was hard. It’s so empty and cold there without Lorena.”

“You’d be helping us out, Mrs. Halloran. And helping Mrs. Miner, too. She’d want us to find the man who did this.”

“I know she would. Poor Lorena. All right, I’ll go.”

Once inside the empty apartment, she proceeded on tiptoe. “It was always so warm and friendly in here,” she murmured. “Lorena would be over there sewing by the window or we’d have tea. I just can’t bear to think...” Her voice trailed away.

“Anything you can remember, any little thing,” Hacker encouraged her.

They were in the kitchen. The old woman nodded. “I’ll try, but I already told everything I could think of. I don’t know what else—” She stopped.

“Mrs. Halloran?”

She was gazing at the phone on the kitchen wall. A puzzled frown grew. “I just noticed,” she said. “Her keys. See that little hook on the wall beside the phone? Lorena had an extra set of keys hanging there. She got them after she mislaid hers one day and took forever to find them. Said she was getting so absent-minded that she needed another set. Now look — they’re gone. I swear, I didn’t notice that before. Do you think — did one of your men take them?”

“No, ma’am,” Skovich said, his gut beginning a slow dance. “Were they hanging there when you were in here before, the day it happened?”

“I’m not sure, but I don’t think — no, I don’t believe they were.” Her eyes grew wide and frightened. “Maybe that’s how he got in.”

“Then it would have to be someone who’d been in here before,” Hacker said. “Who could that have been?”

Mrs. Halloran’s hands fluttered. “I don’t know! Lorena was always so careful. Mrs. Robertson and I visited, and that young Mr. Caputo helped her with her groceries a time or two. And the boy from the library was here. Besides that, I—”

“What boy from the library?” Skovich cut in sharply.

She stared up at him. “There was a young man worked at the library. Lorena mentioned he was so nice and friendly. She went there often, you know, loved to read. And she told me he brought books a few times when the weather was too bad for her to go out.” Her voice began to tremble. “She thought it was so considerate.” At the question in the detectives’ eyes, she whispered, “I don’t know a thing about him. I don’t remember if she even mentioned his name.” Her gaze was drawn back to the empty hook on the wall. “But the keys were always there, right in plain sight.”

The librarian was a plain young woman who eyed Hacker with appreciation.

“Of course I know who you mean. Reese Baldwin. He’s a student at the university, worked here part time. Shelved books, helped out wherever we needed him. Reese was really good with the older people. And he did take books to Mrs. Miner sometimes. We’re not supposed to do that, you know, but she was such a regular patron I knew I didn’t have to worry about her returning them.”

“You’re talking about him in the past tense,” Skovich said. “Isn’t he here?”

“As a matter of fact, he quit this week. Said it was too much for him on top of his study load. We’ll miss him; he was a big help.”

“I wonder if we could have his address,” Hacker suggested.

“Is Reese in trouble?”

“We just want to talk to him, ma’am,” he assured her with a smile.

“Please,” she protested, coloring. “I’m not old enough to be called ma’am.”

Armed with the address, they sped for their car, Hacker still wearing his smile.

“You can wipe that off now,” Skovich informed him darkly. “Doesn’t do a damn thing for me.”

No one was home at Baldwin’s apartment. They left a note requesting him to call and went back to the station. Once satisfied that Baldwin had no prior record, Skovich pulled the strings necessary to get a copy of his driver’s license photo and Hacker contacted the university. Reese Baldwin was a registered undergraduate but, according to his class schedule, he was probably not on campus that afternoon.

“What’s your gut saying?” Hacker inquired while they waited for the license photo to come through.

“Saying it’s a good possible. He walked the dog with her. Knew her routine, when she’d be out of the apartment.”

“Yeah. I think we just struck gold. Hope so. Sure would like to get my hands on him.”

“Easy now.”

“I’m a big boy, Hank. I know the rules.”

Late afternoon and Baldwin had not called. The picture came through and they headed for the park bench. Before they could get to the business at hand, however, they had to admire Marsh’s new teeth. Then the old men huddled over Reese Baldwin’s photo and immediately agreed that he was the man they’d seen walking with Lorena Miner.

“Got a face like a cherub,” Sid snarled. “Wouldn’t mind getting a piece of him myself.”

“We helped then, didn’t we?” P.T. was elated. “We’re good snitches?”

Skovich was beginning to feel the adrenalin flow. It made him expansive. “Too early to tell yet, but if this turns out we’ll see that you four get some kind of departmental recognition for it.”

The old men shouldered one another like a gang of boys. “So what do you do now?” Sid’s hot eyes were steaming. “You going after him?”

“We’ll take it from here,” Skovich advised them. “Thanks for all you’ve done. You’ll be hearing from us, okay?”

They parked across the street and a half block away from Reese Baldwin’s apartment. The sky was fast losing light. Skovich was hungry, and they were discussing which one would go for a quick food run when Hacker said, “Look. Someone’s coming out of his building.”

He was walking away from them, shoulders hunched, hands in pockets. “That’s him,” Skovich said. “Let’s go.”

They were across the street and still some lengths behind him when a small group of people rounded the corner beyond Baldwin and started towards him.

Hacker groaned. “God, it’s P.T. and the gang.”

“What?” Skovich said. “How did they find—”

Just then Marsh raised his arm and waved. Baldwin slowed, looked behind him, and saw the detectives. Skovich and Hacker broke into a trot.

“Reese Baldwin?” Skovich called. “Police! Stay where you are. We want to talk to you.”

Baldwin seemed confused. He looked at them, then at P.T. and his friends fast advancing. He fell into a half-crouch.

“Stay away from me!” he shouted.

Hacker said, “We’ll have to take him.”

Before the words were completely out of his mouth, Baldwin broke for the nearest alley. P.T. and his men, who were closer, stepped up their pursuit. Everyone converged at the opening, and suddenly John lunged from P.T.’s pack and flung himself into Baldwin. Both men went down. But John stayed down, while Baldwin struggled to his feet and disappeared into the darkening alley. Hacker sprinted after him. Skovich lingered long enough to see that John was trying to sit up, blood oozing from his forehead where he had hit the cement.

“You all right?” Skovich barked.

John grinned a woozy grin. “That felt good,” he said.

“Stay here! All of you, stay here!” Skovich ordered and sped off after his partner. Immediately there were footsteps behind him. “I said, stay there!” he shouted over his shoulder, but the footsteps continued and there was no time to stop and enforce his order. Baldwin was getting away. Cursing hotly, he hissed ahead to Hacker, “Don’t shoot, Terry, don’t shoot. There’s old guys all over the place.”

“I don’t think I’ll have to,” Hacker hissed back. “He must not be armed or he’d have fired by now. Can you see him?”

The alley dead-ended into a parking area. It was half full of cars and Baldwin was crouched, zigzagging between them, headed for the high chain-link fence enclosing it. “Police!” Skovich shouted again. “Stay where you are, Baldwin. Don’t make us shoot.”

He saw a blur of movement, and Baldwin wailed, “Leave me alone! I didn’t mean to do it, it was an accident! She came home too soon, you understand? I didn’t mean to!”

They lost sight of him momentarily, then he burst from the farthest row of cars and hurled himself at the fence. The detectives plunged after him and they were on the fence together, heaving up by sheer willpower, clawing desperately for grip. Hacker caught hold of a pant leg and got kicked in the face. He slipped, clutching at Skovich for purchase. The detectives hung together for scant seconds, steadying themselves, while Baldwin continued to haul his way up the fence. They were at least eight feet off the ground, the old men below them, cheering them on.

“I didn’t mean to,” Baldwin was whimpering softly. “Give me a break, okay? It wasn’t my fault!”

He was close to the top of the fence, but he was tiring, and he was crying now, great snuffling sobs. His foot slipped and he clung for a moment only by his hands. They were on him then, one close on each side, arms locked across his back, pinning him to the fence. And Baldwin gave up. He sagged, letting the fence go, allowing his full weight to bear on them and their own precarious hold on the fence.

“Hang on, damn you!” Hacker grunted, and Skovich managed, “Don’t drop him, Terry!”

“We heard him say he did it,” P.T.’s voice floated up from below. “We heard the whole thing. We’re witnesses!”

“Get out of the way down there!” Skovich bawled down as the combined weight of the men on the fence began to droop toward gravity. “Terry? You hear me? Don’t drop him!”

They went down together, sprawling onto the concrete with a resounding thud. Hacker was up instantly, rolling Baldwin onto his face in the dirt and cuffing his hands behind him.

“You’re under arrest!” he announced as the old men crowded around to watch.

Baldwin was still sobbing. “You don’t understand. I needed the money. You don’t know how hard it is to get an education these days. I never meant to hurt her.”

“You’ll get a chance to tell us all about your hard times,” Hacker promised him. “I can’t wait to hear.”

P.T. was jigging up and down. “You boys do good work. By God, made me proud to be part of it!”

Hacker squatted beside Skovich, still sprawled half-sitting against the fence. “That was real teamwork up there, partner.” He leaned close in the dusk. “We held him and we got him.”

Skovich eyed him pleasantly. “Like to have a little talk with you, Terry. Remember up there? Remember hearing me say don’t drop him?”

Hacker looked puzzled. “I didn’t drop him. We all came down together.”

“Oh no. I distinctly felt you drop him, even after I asked you not to. Wanted to inflict pain, you said, if we caught him.”

“But he’s not hurt, Hank. Little shook up, but you saw me. I never laid a hand on him.”

“Inflict some pain. Well, you did. Forget about me getting through the toothache. You dropped him, Terry. On my foot.” Sadly, he indicated his left one. “I’m pretty sure it’s broken.”

Hacker sat down hard on the cement. “Aw, jeez.”

“Try to remember the next time,” Skovich went on patiently. “Listen when I tell you something, that’s all I ask. Just listen, okay?”