Red Dragon - Thomas Harris [77]
Zeller had hoped to pinpoint a make of vehicle and the approximate time of manufacture.
He telexed the results to Chicago.
The Chicago police department wanted its wheels back. The wheels made an awkward package for the courier. Zeller put written lab reports in his pouch along with mail and a package that had come for Graham.
“Federal Express I'm not,” the courier said when he was sure Zeller couldn't hear him.
# # #
The Justice Department maintains several small apartments near Seventh District Court in Chicago for the use of jurists and favored expert witnesses when court is in session. Graham stayed in one of these, with Crawford across the hall.
He came in at nine P.M., tired and wet. He had not eaten since breakfast on the plane from Washington and the thought of food repelled him.
Rainy Wednesday was over at last. It was as bad a day as he could remember.
With Lounds dead, it seemed likely that he was next and all day Chester had watched his back; while he was in Lounds's garage, while he stood in the rain on the scorched pavement where Lounds was burned. With strobe lights flashing in his face, he told the press he was “grieved at the loss of his friend Frederick Lounds.”
He was going to the funeral, too. So were a number of federal agents and police, in the hope that the killer would come to see Graham grieve.
Actually he felt nothing he could name, just cold nausea and an occasional wave of sickly exhilaration that he had not burned to death instead of Lounds.
It seemed to Graham that he had learned nothing in forty years: he had just gotten tired.
He made a big martini and drank it while he undressed. He had another after his shower while he watched the news.
(“An FBI trap to catch the Tooth Fairy backfires and a veteran reporter is dead. We'll be back with details on Eyewitness News after this.”)
They were referring to the killer as “the Dragon” before the newscast was over. The Tattler had spilled it all to the networks. Grahain wasn't surprised. Thursday's edition should sell well.
He made a third martini and called Molly.
She had seen the television news at six and ten o'clock and she had seen a Tattler. She knew that Graham had been the bait in a trap.
“You should have told me, Will.”
“Maybe. I don't think so.”
“Will he try to kill you now?”
“Sooner or later. It would be hard for him now, since I'm moving around. I'm covered all the time, Molly, and he knows it. I'll be okay.”
“You sound a little slurry, have you been to see your friend in the fridge?”
“I had a couple.”
“How do you feel?”
“Fairly rotten.”
“The news said the FBI didn't have any protection for the reporter.”
“He was supposed to be with Crawford by the time the Tooth Fairy got the paper.”
“The news is calling him the Dragon now.”
“That's what he calls himself.”
“Will, there's something . . . I want to take Willy and leave here.”
“And go where?”
“His grandparents'. They haven't seen him in a while, they'd like to see him.”
“Oh, umhmm.”
Willy's father's parents had a ranch on the Oregon coast.
“It's creepy here. I know it's supposed to be safe - but we're not sleeping a whole lot. Maybe the shooting lessons spooked me, I don't know.”
“I'm sorry, Molly.” I wish I could tell you how sorry.
“I'll miss you. We both will.”
So she had made up her mind.
“When are you going?”
“In the morning.”
“What about the shop?”
“Evelyn wants to take it. I'll underwrite the fall stuff with the wholesalers, just for the interest, and she can keep what she makes.”
“The dogs?”
“I asked her to call the county, Will. I'm sorry, but maybe somebody will take some of them.”
“Molly, I-”
“If staying here I could keep something bad from happening to you, I'd stay. But you can't save anybody, Will, I'm not helping you here. With us up there, you can just think about taking care of yourself. I'm not carrying this damned pistol the rest of my life, Will.”
“Maybe