Hark! by Ed McBain Read Free Book Online Page B

in both lines formed the words:
    RED POINT?
HAMILTON MOTEL!
    â€¦the name of the motel in a town across the river where a man who’d registered as Sonny Sanson had left behind a bloody trail apparently inspired by a woman who’d betrayed him.
    Had that woman been GLORIA STANFORD?
    A DARN SOFT GIRL-O!
    Because, boy-o-boy-o, Sonny Sanson was sure as hell Son’io Sans Son , who was in turn ADAM FEN, who was none other than the DEAF MAN, who’d entered with fanfare and flourish to act yet another part.
    I’M A FATHEAD, MEN?
    Oh, no, not by a long shot.
    I AM THE DEAF MAN!
    Bravo, lads, that was more like it!
    He was back, and the very thought sent a collective shudder through the detectives gathered in the lieutenant’s office.
    â€œAnyone care for another donut?” Byrnes asked.

4.
    Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May
    And summer’s lease hath all too short a date…
    â€œActually, that’s kind of nice,” Genero said.
    â€œHe’s back, all right,” Willis said.
    â€œWith more poetry, no less.”
    â€œ ‘The darling buds of May,’ ” Eileen said. “That’s Shakespeare, isn’t it?”
    â€œSure sounds like Shakespeare.”
    â€œ ‘The darling buds of May.’ ”
    â€œBut it’s June already,” Carella said.
    â€œJust barely,” Meyer said.
    This was Thursday morning, the third day of June. The lieutenant had virtually double-teamed the squad because whenever the Deaf Man put in an appearance, his people all suddenly began behaving like Keystone Kops, and one could not be too careful lest disapprobation thunder down from the brassy skies above. The nine Shakespearean scholars grouped around Carella’s desk were Carella himself, Meyer, Kling, Genero, Parker, Hawes, Willis, Brown, and Eileen Burke.
    â€œKind of nice, though,” Genero said. “ ‘The darling buds of May,’ you know? I really like that.”
    All the squadroom windows were open to the balmy breezes of early June. The note on Carella’s desk was the first one delivered today. He felt sure there’d be more.
    â€œWhat’s he trying to tell us this time?” he asked.
    â€œNothing about the homicide, that’s for sure.”
    â€œHe’s already said enough about that,” Meyer said. “I killed Gloria Stanford, I shot her twice in the heart, now come find me, dummies.”
    â€œWhere does it say that?” Parker asked.
    He had shaved this morning. Maybe he expected another round of coffee and donuts.
    â€œIn his previous notes,” Meyer explained. “All those anagrams.”
    â€œYeah, anagrams, right,” Parker said, not giving a shit one way or the other.
    â€œWhat does he mean about ‘summer’s lease’?” Willis asked.
    â€œWhen does summer start this year?” Eileen asked.
    Limping around the lieutenant’s office in his soft cast, Hawes didn’t much care when summer started this year. Or any year. He was still fuming because the dicks from the 8-6 hadn’t found any ejected shells on any of the rooftops opposite Honey Blair’s building, and so far nobody knew nothing about whoever had fired half a dozen shots at him yesterday morning. It was one thing to get all excited about someone who might or might not be the Deaf Man perhaps being responsible for the death of a woman named Gloria Stanford, but bygones were bygones, easy come, easy go, and Hawes himself was still in the here-and-now and luckily among the living, and whoever had tried to render him otherwise was still out there someplace, on the loose, so where the hell was a cop when you needed one?
    â€œMiscolo!” Brown yelled.
    â€œ ‘Summer’s lease hath all too short a date,’ ” Eileen quoted.
    â€œNice,” Genero said again, smiling wistfully.
    Miscolo came in from the Clerical Office down the hall. He’d put on a little weight and lost a