The Third Figure Read Online Free PDF Page A

talk like you’re on the other side already.”
    Now I felt myself becoming angry.
    “That’s a lot of crap, and you know it. I asked the question for a reason. The murder of Dominic Vennezio is already swept under the rug. There’ll never be an arrest made, and you realize it as well as I do. Now, if that’s the case, why the hell shouldn’t I make a few thousand dollars? For that matter, why shouldn’t I make myself one thousand dollars, just for going to Los Angeles and getting an interview that any crime reporter in the country would give anything to get? That’s all I’m committed to now, you know—just a trip down to Los Angeles. I could be right back here Monday morning.”
    “You’re forgetting one thing.”
    “l am?”
    “Yes, you are. When you talk about it being a closed case, don’t forget about the CIIB.”
    “The what?”
    “The Criminal Identification and Investigation Bureau. California’s FBI.”
    “They don’t ask for indictments, though.” I hesitated. “Do they?”
    “Not usually. But they can, in certain situations. And La Palada is a situation they’re looking into.”
    “Well, I know, but …”
    “There’s another thing I’d like to know.”
    “What’s that?” I was aware that I must sound defensive. Suddenly it was the way I felt.
    “Why did Mrs. Vennezio come to you?”
    “I’ve already told you, there wasn’t anyone else she could go to. Besides, she—she read my clippings.”
    “Oh.”
    “Well, what’s wrong with that?” Now my voice sounded plaintive—also the way I felt.
    “Nothing’s wrong with it, except that you know as well as I do that you’ve always worked with the police. You need the information we develop. You’ve admitted to me, several times, that these—these flashes of yours are a pretty sometimes thing. They’re—”
    “Now listen, George. You’re the one person in the world who should know that—”
    “They’re genuine flashes, all right,” he interrupted smoothly. “I’m not saying they’re not. I’ve profited by them myself, and I’ve always been the first one to admit it. Publicly. All I’m saying is that you shouldn’t become the victim of your own publicity. You know as well as I do that the Sentinel hired you for your publicity value when you found that murderer down in San Jose. And you also know that every time you and the San Francisco Police Department managed to come up with a murderer, the Sentinel spread your picture all over the front page, thereby selling a few thousand extra papers. Now, I’m not knocking it, Steve. And I’m not knocking you. All I’m pointing out is that, by your own admission, you operate just about like any reasonably talented detective. You pound the pavements, and you spend a lot of time chasing your tail. And then—still by your own statements—after you’ve walked a few miles and chased down a few bum leads and spent a lot of time moping around my office, you finally get your flash. But the point is that you’ve usually had help. Also, you’ve sometimes been wrong, and sometimes you’ve just simply failed. Now …” Again he leveled his long forefinger at me. “Now, everyone fails. It’s no sin. But if you start messing around with the Outfit and they don’t like the way things are going, they don’t just call you into the boss’s office for a friendly little chat.”
    I thought about it and then said, “You’re contradicting yourself, George.”
    “How do you mean?” He reached over to the stove for the coffee pot.
    “According to what you said first, the thing I have to worry about is what would happen if I found out who killed Vennezio. Now you’re worrying what’ll happen if I don’t. You can’t have it both ways.”
    Larsen refilled his cup, glanced at mine and then shrugged, resigned.
    “All right, go ahead. Everyone’s entitled to make a damned fool of himself once in a while, and it’s obvious you’re determined to do just that. But when you find