〃Cause if you is； my cousin Eddie is sho one fine lawyer。 Yassuh！〃
〃Riddley；〃 I said； 〃where did you go to college？〃
〃Co'nell； Mist Kenton； and it sho was fine！〃 Riddley grinned； showing teeth as white as piano keys （and just as numerous； one is tempted to believe）。
〃If you went to Cornell；〃 I said； 〃why in God's name do you talk that way？〃
〃What way is dat； Mist Kenton？〃
〃Never mind；〃 I said； glancing at my watch。 〃It's always fine to have one of these philosophical discussions with you； Riddley； but I've got an appointment and I ought to run。〃
〃Yassuh！〃 He said； flashing that obscene grin again。 〃And if you want my cousin Eddie's phone numbah…〃
But by then I had escaped into the hall。 It's always a relief to get free of Riddley。 I suppose it's terrible to say this； but I wish Roger would fire him…I look at that big piano…key grin and； God help me； I wonder if Riddley hasn't made a pact to drink white man's blood when the fire es next time。 Along with his cousin； Eddie； of course。
Well； forget all that…I've been tickling the typewriter keys for over an hour and a half； and this is starting to look like a novelette。 I had better scamp through the rest。 So。 。 。 Act III； Scene II。
I arrived at the police station late and soaking wet all over again…no cabs and the rain had bee a good steady downpour。 Only a January rain in New York City can be that cold （California looks better to me every day； Ruth！）。
Tyndale took a look at me； offered a thin smile with no noticeable humor in it； and said： 〃Central Falls just released your author。 No cabs out there； huh？ Never are when it rains。〃
〃They let Detweiller go？〃 I asked incredulously。 〃And he's not our author。 I wouldn't touch him with a ten…foot…plague…pole。〃 〃Well； whatever he is； the whole thing's nothing but a tempest in a teapot；〃 he said； handing me what may have been the vilest cup of coffee I have ever drunk in my life。
He took me into a vacant office； which was something of a mercy…that sense that the others in the squadroom were sneaking peeks at the prematurely balding editor in the drippy tweeds was probably paranoid； but it was pretty strong just the same。
To make a long story even longer； about forty…five minutes after the wirephotos had arrived； and about fifteen minutes after Detweiller had arrived （not handcuffed； but flanked by two burly men in blue…suits）； the plainclothesman who had been dispatched to the House of Flowers after my original call arrived。 He had been on the other side of town all afternoon。
They had left Detweiller alone in a small interrogation room； Tyndale told me； to soften him up…to get him thinking all sorts of nasty thoughts。 The plainclothesman who had verified the fact that Detweiller was indeed still working at the House of Flowers was looking at the 〃Sacrifice Photos〃 when Chief Iverson came out of his office and headed for the interrogation room where Detweiller was being kept。
〃Jesus；〃 the plainclothesman said to Iverson； 〃these look almost real； don't they？〃
Iverson stopped。 〃Do you have any reason to believe they aren't？〃 he asked。
〃Well； when I went into that flower…shop this morning to check on that guy Detweiller； this dude getting the informal heart…surgery was sitting off to one side behind the counter； playing solitaire and watching Ryan's Hope on TV。〃
〃Are you sure of that？〃 Iverson demanded。
The plainclothesman tapped the first of the 〃Sacrifice Photos；〃 where the face of the 〃victim〃 was clearly shown。 〃No mistake；〃 he said。 〃This guy。〃
〃Well why in God's name didn't you say he was there？〃 Iverson demanded； no doubt with visions of Detweiller bringing charges of false and malicious detainment beginning to dance dolefully in his head。
〃Because no one asked me about this guy；〃 the detective said； reasonably enough。 〃I was supposed to verify Detweiller； which I did。 If somebody had asked me to verify this guy； I would have。 No one did。 See you。〃 And he walked away； leaving Iverson holding the bag。 So that was that。
I looked at Tyndale。
Tyndale looked back at me。
After a moment or two he softened。 〃For whatever it's worth； Mr。 Kenton； that particular photo did look real。 。 。 real as hell。 But so do the effects in some of these horror movies。 There's one guy…Tom Savini…and the effects he does…〃
〃So they let him go。〃 A dread was surfacing inside my head like one of those little Russian submarines the Swedes are never quite able to trap。
〃For whatever else it's worth； your ass is covered with three sets of skivvies and four sets of pants； the middle two sets iron…clad；〃 Tyndale said； and then added； with a sobriety that was positively Alexander Haigian： 〃I'm speaking legally…wise； you understand。 You acted in good faith； as a citizen。 If the guy could prove malice； that would be one thing。 。 。 but hell； you didn't even know him。〃
The submarine came up a little more。 Because I felt right then like I was starting to know him； Ruth； and my feelings about Carlos Detweiller were not then and are not now anything I would describe as jolly or benign。
〃Besides； it's never the informant they want to sue for false arrest anyway…it's the cop who came and read them their rights and then took them downtown in a car with no doorhandles in the back doors。〃
Informant。 That was the source of the dread。 The submarine was all the way up； floating on the surface like a dead fish in the moonlight。 Informant。 I didn't know Carlos Detweiller from a psychic begonia。 。 。 but he knew something about me。 Not that I was the head of the Brown University literary society； or that I'm prematurely balding； or that I'm engaged to marry a pretty miss from Pasadena named Ruth Tanaka。 。 。 not any of those things （and please God； not my home address； never my home address）； but he knows I'm the editor who had him taken into custody for a murder he did not mit。
〃Do you know；〃 I asked him； 〃if Iverson or anyone else at the Central Falls Police Department mentioned me to him by name？〃 Tyndale lit a cigarette。 〃No；〃 he said； 〃but I'm pretty sure no one there did。〃
〃Why not？〃
〃It would have been unprofessional。 When you're building a case…even one that dies as fast as this one did…every name the perp doesn't know or even might not know bees a poker chip。〃
Any relief I might have felt was short…lived。
〃But the guy would have to be pretty dumb not to know。 Unless； that is； he mailed the photos to every publisher in New York。 Think he might have done that？〃
〃No；〃 I said dismally。 〃No other publisher in New York would have responded to his query letter in the first place。〃
〃I see。〃
Tyndale was up； clearing away the styrofoam coffee cups； making those end…of…the…party gestures that meant he was hoping I'd put an egg in my shoe and beat it。
〃One more question and I'll get out of your hair；〃 I said。 〃The other photos were obvious fakes。 Pififul。 How e they look so bad and these other fakes look so damn good？〃
〃Maybe Detweiller himself set up the 'Sakred Seance' photos and someone else…Central Fall's answer to Tom Savini； say…made up the 'sakrifice victim。 ' Or maybe Detweiller did them all and purposely made the other ones look bad so you'd take these more seriously。〃
〃Why would he do that？〃
〃So you'd stub your toe just the way you have； maybe。 Maybe that's how he gets off。〃
〃But he got arrested in the process！〃
He looked at me； almost pityingly。 〃Here's a guy who's in a bar； Mr。 Kenton； and he's got these cigarette loads。 So just for a joke； he loads up one of his buddy's cigarettes while his buddy's in the john or picking out some tunes on the juke。 Seems to him like the funniest idea in the world at the time； even though the buddy's sense of humor only begins when a load explodes in someone else's cigarette； and the guy doing the loading now should know it。 So the buddy es back； and pretty soon he gets to the loaded pill。 Takes two puffs and kabang！ Tobacco all over his face； powder…burns on his fingers； and he spills his beer in his lap。 And his buddy…his previous buddy…is sitting there on the next stool； just about laughing himself into a hemorrhage。 Do you see all that？