"Saul Geltman," she said. "I still can't believe it. That nice little man."

"Oh, everyone speaks very highly of him," Delaney said with heavy sarcasm. "One of the nicest guys I ever met had just murdered his mother, father, two sisters, a brother, and the family dog. With a hammer yet. While they slept. I don't think Geltman would agree with your answer. Just the opposite. I told you once, it's when want turns to need that the trouble starts."

She looked at him.

"I want you," she said.

He looked at her.

"I need you," he said.

"Then let the trouble start," she said, sliding off the desk and taking him by the hand.

"In the middle of the afternoon?" he said.

"Why not?"

"Depraved," he said, shaking his big head.

But he rose immediately to his feet and followed her upstairs.

21.

HIS FIRST INTENTION WAS to approach Rosa Perez by himself and try to sell her on his scheme. But he finally decided to brace her with Sergeant Boone and Officer Jason in attendance. They were all three big men; while they would not threaten physical harm, their massive presence would have a psychological effect. He had used it before: a suspect surrounded by looming and glowering giants, unconsciously intimidated, imagination creating the fear-and eager cooperation.

But Mama wasn't having any.

"You tink I'm nuts?" she said indignantly.

Patiently, Delaney went through his prepared speech. What they were asking was really a very small thing: a single phone call to Saul Geltman for starters. She was to say she was the eyewitness who had seen him near Maitland's studio the morning of the murder. She was also to tell Geltman she had made a tentative identification to the cops, but maybe she could change her mind. After all, she was a very poor woman. Etc., etc.

Then, if Geltman sounded interested, she was to set up a meet with him in her apartment. Delaney would take it from there. And that's all there was to it.

Mama said no.

Delaney told her that putting Geltman in the slammer was the only way she could guarantee her own safety, since the art dealer was sure to come gunning for her. When that had no effect, the Chief reminded Rosa that Geltman had also seen Dolores, and for the sake of the girl's safety, the phone call should be made.

She waffled a bit on that, but then stoutly decided that she and Dolores and Dolores' mother would move, and Geltman would never find them. So Delaney offered her fifty dollars to make the call. The gold tooth gleamed, but Mama still refused. And she remained adamant even after the ante was raised to a hundred dollars, and Delaney swore she would be in no physical danger.

"We'll be in the next room watching everything during the meet," he assured her. "He makes one cute move, and we smear him. Dolores won't even be here. You're a strong woman; you can hold off one puny little guy for a few seconds, can't you? I'll bet you've handled bigger bums than him and never got hurt. And there's that yard for your trouble. A cool hundred dollars for a few minutes alone with this guy. Mama, he's practically a midget! What do you say?"

She was tempted, they could all see that, but she wouldn't commit herself. She was a small, bulky woman with eyes as bright as berries, a wise mouth, tartish voice, a manner that alternated between street twist and saucy virgin.

Chief Delaney, stymied, noted her frequently coquettish manner. Seeing behind that damaged face, he realized she must have been a beauty forty years ago, and she remembered.

"Your picture in all the papers, Mama," he said softly. "If you help us. Television interviews. Rosa Perez Helps Capture Killer. Everyone will see you. Everyone will know who you are. You'll be someone. Someone, Mama. Rosa Perez. Famous."

"On TV?" she asked slowly, and he knew he had her.

It was decided the phone call would be made from the Chief's brownstone. Both Boone and Jason owned small tape recorders. The sergeant's had a suction-cup attachment for telephone use. He'd tape the call from the hallway extension with Jason standing by with his recorder as backup. Delaney and Rosa Perez would place the call from the study.

They spent an entire afternoon on rehearsals. Mama was not an educated woman, but her parents had not raised her to be a fool, and she had added street wit and a shrewd understanding of human foibles. Delaney prepared a script for her to follow, but soon discarded the text and let her speak her own argot. They tossed questions at her-things they thought Saul Geltman might ask-and, after an initial hesitation, she began to answer all their queries with just the right mixture of bravado and cupidity. Delaney thought she'd do very well indeed.

After the rehearsal, on the ride uptown, Jason Two said, "What a bimbo! I think she's really enjoying this."

"She's the center of attention," Delaney said, "and that pleases her. We'll go with the call tomorrow afternoon about three o'clock. He should be back from lunch by then."

"If he goes for it, Chief," Boone asked, "and he makes the meet, what have we got? You figuring on aggravated assault or assault with a deadly weapon?"

"Hopefully," Delaney nodded. "If not that, we'll have another link with the Maitland kill at least. But I'm betting he'll show with his trusty blade, all charged up to off her."

"He won't pay blackmail?" Jason said.

"He's not that stupid," Delaney said. "He'll guess it's just the first installment, and he's got to silence her permanently. That's how I'd figure if I was him."

"You think he's got the balls to take her?" Boone said.

"He did it twice," Delaney said somberly. "It gets easier."

The call was set for Thursday afternoon. The Chief had planned it that way so Monica would be absent on her weekly stint as a hospital volunteer; he preferred she not be aware of his use of Rosa Perez as bait. Jason T. Jason was assigned the task of chauffeuring Mama uptown in his car. Boone and Delaney met early in the brownstone to arrange chairs, and set up and test the small tape recorders.

Jason arrived on schedule a little after two o'clock. Delaney was touched to see that Mama Perez had dolled-up for the occasion. She was wearing a shiny purple dress with an embroidered bib of seed pearls, only a few of which were missing. She carried a white plastic handbag with a black poodle painted on one side. Her platform soles gave her an additional three inches of height; the straps wound about fat calves bulging under rose-tinted stockings or pantyhose. The makeup was thick and startling: green eyeshadow, patches of pink rouge, and puckered Cupid's-bow lips.

"You look terrific," Delaney assured her.

"You like?" she said delightedly, then shrugged casually. "Is nothing."

She asked for a drink, and he promptly brought her a double whiskey with water on the side, having no doubts that she could handle it. Sergeant Boone and Jason went into the hall to man their equipment. Delaney had Rosa Perez sit in the swivel chair behind the study desk. He pulled a straight chair close to her where he could listen to the conversation by leaning forward, his ear pressed to the receiver. He was prepared the break the connection if she crossed him.

A few minutes before three o'clock, he dialed the number of Geltman Galleries and handed the phone to Mama Perez. She hitched forward on the padded chair, her back straight, looking very serious and intent.

"Geltman Galleries," a woman's voice said.

"Meester Geltman," Mama Perez said.

"May I ask who's calling?"

"He don' know me. Tell heem eet's about Victor Maitland."

"Victor Maitland? Perhaps I can help you. What is it-"

"Meester Geltman," Rosa repeated sternly. "Is important. You jus' tell heem."

"Just a moment, please."

They waited. Delaney nodded encouragingly at Mama Perez and made an O sign with thumb and forefinger. She flashed her gold tooth in a surprisingly impish smile.

They heard clicks on the phone as the call was switched. Then ...

"Saul Geltman speaking. Who is this, please?"

"You don' know me," Mama Perez said. "I seen your peecture een the paper. But I seen you before that."

"Oh?" Geltman said easily. "What was that-"

"Sure I seen you," she went on quickly. "On the stairs. Victor Maitland's studio. On Friday morning. The day he was keeled."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Geltman said.

"You know," Mama Perez said. "You know. I seen you there, an' you seen me. Right, Meester Geltman?"

"I haven't the slightest-"

"I tol' the cops I taught it was you," she continued. "I peeked your peecture out. But maybe eet wasn't you. Maybe I make a meestake. Eet was a long time ago. I only seen you a meenute. So I could maybe make a meestake. You onnerstan', Meester Geltman?"

There was silence a moment. They heard his breathing. Then he said, "Wait a minute; I'll be right back." Then they heard the scrape of a chair on the floor, footsteps, the sound of a door being closed, footsteps, the creak of the chair as he sat down again.

"Would you give me your name, please?" he asked pleasantly.

"No," Mama Perez said. "You don' need to know. I'm jus' a poor woman, Meester Geltman. A poor woman. You onnerstan'?"

"I think I do," he said, his voice still steady. "Did the cops put you up to this?"

"The cops?" Mama repeated. She laughed scornfully. "Focking cops! I speet on the cops!"

She spoke that rehearsed line with such genuine vehemence that even Delaney was convinced. He figured that either Geltman would believe, or the whole scam would die right there.

"What do you want?" Saul Geltman asked, and the Chief took a deep breath, guessing the art dealer was hooked.

"I wan' fiv tousan'," she said. "I wanna go back to Puerto Rico. I wanna get out of thees steenking seety an' nevair come back."

"Five thousand dollars?" Saul Geltman said. "That's a lot of money."

"Not so much moaney. Not eef I go away an' nevair come back. You onnerstan', Meester Geltman?"

"I think I do. What about the young girl who was with you?"

"My daughter. She goes back weeth me. We nevair come back. Nevair."

"And what happens if the cops find you in Puerto Rico?"

Mama Perez laughed again. "In Puerto Rico? Nevair, Meester Geltman. But eef they do, then we don' remember. We don' remember who we seen near Victor Maitland's studio that Friday morning he was keeled. We forget; For five tousan' we forget."

"Well ... uh ..." Geltman said cautiously, "maybe we could discuss it. Come to some arrangement to our mutual benefit."

"Five tousan'," Rosa Perez said definitely. "Een cash. No check. Cash money. Small beels."

"You've figured this out very carefully, haven't you?"

"Oh sure."

"And have you figured out how the money is to be delivered to you?"

Delaney put a finger to his lips, shook his head. Mama nodded and said nothing on the phone.

"I asked how the money was to be delivered," Geltman repeated. "Have you thought of that?"

"N-n-no," Rosa Perez stammered. "You mail eet to me?"

"Mail five thousand cash?" Geltman said. "I don't think that would be smart, do you?"

"No. Maybe not so smart."

"Of course not," he said smoothly. "I can see you're an intelligent woman. Why don't we meet somewhere, and I'll hand over the package in person?"

"Where we meet?" she said suspiciously.

"Oh, I can think of half a dozen places," he said. "Central Park, Grand Central Station, and so forth. But the problem is privacy. We really want privacy for our little transaction, don't we? You live in Manhattan?"

"Oh sure. Downtown."

"You live alone?"

"Oh sure. Jus' me an' my daughter."

"Not your husband?"

"My hosbon' he don' leeve weeth us. He's gone."

"I see. Well, why don't I deliver the package to you where you live? You give me your name and address, and I'll bring it to you. How's that?"

"Well ... I don' know ..."

"It's the best way," he assured her. "Then we'll have privacy-right?"

"I don' like eet," she said. "Maybe I come to where you leeve?"

"No," he said. "Definitely not. It's got to be at your place or the deal is off."

"Well," she said dubiously, "all ri'. But no mahnkey beesness."