time. At one point he stopped me to yell over to some other detectives.
“If I find those bags empty later, I’ll shoot someone.”
“I’ve seen you on the range,” one of the cops replied. “I’ll take my chances.”
After I finished my story, Cormac sat back and put his arms behind his head.
“Let me get this straight, if it’s possible. You and Alice went to a glorified sand bar for the wedding of the hooker who almost got you killed once. A hooker I helped you identify by her fingerprints on a Coke can, if memory serves me right. Said call girl is now reformed and married a billionaire, and you gave her away.”
“I think she would prefer the term ‘escort’.”
“I’m sure she would. You know, I’ve heard all about hookers with a heart of gold. But this one is now made of gold. But I digress. So, after the wedding, you went to a book signing by one of the most famous authors in the world, who you think may be an impostor. And a young girl who you helped get an autograph at the book signing is now missing, and you think she has been murdered.”
“I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
“You did say it, except not as concisely. And your only possible proof may be in these two bags.”
Mack nodded at the books.
“Yeah.” I reached into my pocket for a small envelope and handed it to him. “There’s an index card in there with my prints and Alice’s, labeled with our names. Mine are in the system of course, but it might make it easier for your tech boys.”
Levine laughed.
“Yeah. I’m pretty sure your prints are in a lot of systems. But a lot of people may have handled those books.”
“Not as many as you think. They came out of a box with all new books. The outside may have some prints, so forget them. But the first couple of pages, with the autographs, should only have a few. I seem to remember the old lady holding down the pages with her left hand as she signed them with her right hand.”
“Which the real Harper wouldn’t do, if what the girl said in her letter is true. The author being left-handed, and all.”
“It’s nice to see you’ve been paying attention.”
I was kidding, of course. Cormac always paid attention. He could relate our conversation word-for-word if he had to. Now, he turned serious.
“What does Alice think about all this malarkey?”
“She agrees with me.”
“Well, at least there’s that.” Cormac had a high opinion of Alice. “How does she get along with your escort friend?”
“They’re thick as thieves.”
“Of course. If Alice can put up with you, she can put up with anybody. I’m still a little fuzzy on how you and the happy hooker have reconnected.”
Cormac was in Ireland during my last case, which involved Laurene. I hadn’t gotten around to telling him about it yet, since there were several felonies involved. On my part, with lots of help from Maks Kalugin.
“Here’s the short version.”
Without the felonies, it was indeed pretty short, but Cormac still held up his hand half way through the abridged version.
“Stop! I can’t take anymore. I’ll do anything you want. I’ll have someone look at the signatures and try to match the prints.”
“You’ll do what?” a voice behind me said.
I turned and smiled up at District Attorney Mike Sullivan, who had just come out of his office.
“Mack is going to run some prints and stuff for me.”
“What about your laundry?”
“That was last week.”
“I think there is a law, or at least an ordinance, about using city employees for private business,” Sullivan said.
“That’s why I brought in two bags of bagels.”
“You think my office will roll over for some damn bagels?”
“I got a couple extra with poppy seeds for you.”
“Why didn’t you say so?” Sullivan said, heading toward the bags. “Levine, what are you waiting for? Get cracking. Help the man out.”
Mack held up one of the book bags.
“This is her picture on the back cover? Does it look
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