“You forgot this,” Maggie called down. Then something sailed through the air and landed at the fellow’s feet. He bent down and retrieved it.

“Thanks!” Harlan called out, and put it in his hip pocket.

“His wallet,” Dot said. “He forgot his wallet.”

“Why would he take it out of his pants in the first place?”

“Maybe it fell out,” she said, “when he took off his pants in a hurry. Or maybe there was something he needed up there, something a man might carry in his wallet.”

“Oh.”

“The whole thing,” she said, “was just what it looked like. She picked him up, brought him home, took him upstairs, and then sent him on his way. Go back to sleep.”

“I’m awake now.”

“What were you dreaming about, anyway?”

“My stamp collection.”

“You dream about it?”

“Evidently.”

“Well, maybe you can drift off counting stamps jumping off envelopes. She’s probably back in bed now, and he’s on his way home. Why didn’t she let him stay the night?”

“How do I know?”

“I was just making conversation, Keller. We’re the only two people in the world awake at this hour, I figured we could talk to each other. I thought-“

“We’re not the only two people awake.”

“You’re probably right, but-“ She broke off the sentence, looked where he was pointing. “You’re definitely right,” she said, “unless our friend learned to smoke in his sleep. There he is, puffing away.”

“Still up at this hour, and watching the street.”

“I think we should do the same,” she said. “I think something’s about to happen.”

The first thing that happened was that the man in the fourth-floor window finished his cigarette, or at least took it out of view. Then, a few minutes later, he stepped out of his front door. He was wearing the hat and the muffler, and it was hard to say whether or not he had the mustache.

“Gloves,” Dot noted. “And not because it’s cold.”

“He doesn’t want to leave prints.”

“If he was just going out for another hot dog,” she said, “he probably wouldn’t care. Here he comes.”

He crossed the street, walked their way, and entered the building.

“I got a look,” she said. “The mustache is gone.”

“I noticed.”

“I don’t hear the elevator.”

“He’s probably taking the stairs.”

“It’s the middle of the night. Will she let him in?”

“He’ll have a story.”

“Suppose she doesn’t buy it. What kind of locks has she got?”

“I don’t remember.”

“You don’t remember?”

“I was just there a few times,” he said, “and I didn’t think I was ever going to have to break in, so why should I pay attention to the locks on her door?”

“I wonder how long it’ll take him.”

“Not long.”

“He has to make it look like an accident.”

“That’s easy enough.”

“Will he leave right away? With the astrologer, I couldn’t seem to get out of the apartment.”

“You were searching the place.”

“I guess that was part of it.”

“All he has to do is set the stage and leave,” he said. “And he’s a pro, he’ll get out of there as quickly as he can. I don’t have time to waste.”

“Where are you going?”

“Outside,” he said. “I want to be out there waiting when he hits the street.”

“Roger’s probably watching the building. He’ll see you leave.”

“Can’t be helped. If he leaves first, how am I going to follow him?”

“Just be careful,” she said.

If Roger was out there, in his cap and windbreaker, Keller couldn’t spot him. He tried to scout around as much as he could without being obvious about it, then took a position in a doorway midway between Maggie’s building and the coffee shop on the corner. Maggie’s light was on, and he took that to mean that the man with the hat and muffler was in there with her. Of course she could have had the light on anyway, she could have been sitting up reading a book or making jewelry, but the odds were that the guy was in there with her.

Matter of fact, she was most likely dead by now. Once he was in the door, well, her life expectancy went way down. He wouldn’t have to confirm the identification, because he already knew what she looked like, he’d spoken to her on the street that first night. So he’d just do it. Loop that muffler of his around her throat, say, and make it swift and silent.

Well, maybe not the muffler. Hard to do it that way and make it look accidental. But there were plenty of ways, all of them quick and quiet and deadly.

Unless he was the kind of guy who liked to take his time. There were people like that, Keller knew. You didn’t find too many in the professional ranks, but there were a few. He’d heard stories.

He found himself remembering things about Maggie. The way she had of cocking her head. Other winning little mannerisms.

No choice, he thought. Couldn’t be helped.

He pictured her, looking sweet and saucy and desirable, and he willed himself to do the little trick he’d taught Dot. He turned the color level down, faded it all the way to black and white, then muted the contrast until it became shades of gray. He shrank the picture, moved it farther and farther away so that the image got smaller and smaller.

He was holding it in his mind like that, just a blur, really, invisibly small, when Maggie’s light went out.

Keller let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. For a moment he felt a slight sense of loss, but it gave way to anticipation. He was just about done with waiting. Now he was going to have a chance to do something.

He drew back into the shadows and kept his eyes on the front door, waiting for the killer to emerge. But something made him look up, and he saw a faint red glow in the top-floor window, saw it brighten as the man drew on his cigarette.

He was having a smoke, taking a long look out the window. Did he have the sense that someone was outside waiting for him? Keller figured he himself was invisible, but what about Roger? Was he around? Could the killer see him?

And had Roger noticed the glow of the cigarette?

Twenty-eight

The killer had a cigarette going when he emerged from the building. The same one, Keller figured. It was evidence, and he wouldn’t want to leave it behind. He flicked it at the curb, and sparks danced when it hit the pavement.

The man looked both ways, then turned toward Keller. As soon as he did, Keller left the shelter of the doorway and walked on ahead of the man, leading him, turning left at the corner, walking toward oncoming traffic. He hailed a cab and got in front, next to the driver, who gave him a look, then asked the destination. Keller didn’t say anything until the killer came into view, then pointed him out to the driver.

“See that man?” he said.

“Guy with the hat?”

“That’s the one. He’s going to get a cab, and we’re going to follow him.”

“This a gag?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Candid Camera, something like that? And I got news for you, he’s not even trying for a cab. He’s walking.”

“Follow him.”

“Follow a guy that’s walking?”

“Slowly,” Keller said. “Don’t get too close.”

The man walked east for three blocks, setting a brisk pace. Keller followed him in the cab, trying to ignore the driver. Then the man turned, heading north on a street that was one-way southbound.

“Shit,” Keller said, and paid off the cab. He got out on the opposite side of the street from his quarry and scanned the area, trying to determine if either of them was being followed. He couldn’t see anybody, but that didn’t necessarily mean there was nobody there.

They walked for a couple of blocks, Maggie’s killer on the left-hand side of the avenue, Keller on the right. Then, at the corner of a westbound street with a fair amount of traffic, the man stepped to the curb and held up a hand. Keller did the same, and snatched the cab the man had been trying for. This time he got in back and leaned forward, pointing out the man to the driver.