Mitchell Smith by Daydreams Page A

foreign and domestic; two movie stars (man and wife-both of great reputation and, as it happened, disappointing performance); and several important and less important attaches, intelligence officers, representatives and functionaries of the United Nations. “-There are,” the Colonel said, “several of these individuals quite capable of violence. The congressman, for example . .
    .” Referring to one of the notable clients, a retired politician from the South widely believed in intelligence and law enforcement circles to have murdered his daughter-the motive as unpleasant as could be.
    “That guy wasn’t even in town last week,” Cherusco, said. “It was a way different M.O. Plus, he banged this Gaither just once, years ago. He didn’t have any problem with her at all.”
    “And the gangsters?” The Lieutenant, speaking up at last, spoke up Southern. He’d played basketball in high school in Birmingham, and done well-but had been too slow up and down the court to be offered any but a tuitioned place at Clemson. -So, the Army and Officer’s Candidate School.
    The policemen smiled together at “gangsters,” and the First Deputy leaned forward in his splendid chair. “Those men,” lie said, meaning his opposite numbers in Organized Crime, “-those men don’t usually have any reason to murder prostitutes. Those people usually don’t talk about their business with whores—they just enjoy themselves. Prostitutes and those people understand each other very well; they keep each other company.”
    “And,” Cherusco said, “-and, if a wise guy did want a whore dead for some oddball reason-maybe he couldn’t get it up, didn’t want her telling his buddies—he’d just get some meatball to shoot her in the ear.” The Colonel him. “-Those guys aren’t perverts, you know-they’re started to say something, but Cherusco rode right over not going’ to go stick a banana up some woman’s po-po.”
    “Po-po?” said the Colonel.
    “Vaginal area,” the Lieutenant said.
    “I know that-I thought it was put in her anal area.”
    “She was a two-banana girl,” Cherusco said. “-You understand what I’m sayin’? We’re talkin’ about an emotional thing, here. A personal killing. We probably got love involved here-O.K.?”
    “Even if you’re right, Commander,” the Colonel said.
    “-Suppose you’re right, and this killing of an ex-Godiva operational person-who had as her clients a number of Soviets and Cosa Nostra people–even if her killing was, nonetheless, just a personal thing by some sickie …
    even if that’s true, it doesn’t solve our problem. Our problem is the possible publicity-the possible revelations coming out of this! Frankly, at this point, DOD simply does not care who murdered the woman.”
    :‘Right,” the Lieutenant said.
    “We do care that the woman’s activities for us in those years not become public knowledge-for reasons we all know very well. Washington is very definite on a firm lid being kept on this case . . . this whole matter. They are very serious about it, which is why I’ve been sent back here. -Now, we have certain assets I would be happy to offer to help in damage control. We’ll be in town for as long as it takes.
    -We’re staying over at the Algonquin-“
    “Great,” Cherusco said. “That’s all we need.”
    “I have to tell you . . Mr. Mathews,” the First Deputy sat, “-t at fee I would )e est for your people o stay out of the case. It would almost certainly do more harm than good. -A matter of too many cooks.”
    The Colonel uncrossed his legs and sat up straight. “Of course,” he said, “if you prefer we stand aside for the time being . . .”
    “You bet,” said Cherusco.
    “The Department,” Delgado said-he’d been gazing out through his wall, now turned toward them, blinking at the lesser light-“the Department has had considerable experience handling delicate cases.”
    “Not this delicate, I’ll bet,” the Colonel said. And to the