He covered one ear against Dolly. "Leland, there was a car-"
"Yeah, I know. Your stepfather just called it in. He got the license number too. I just put an APB out on it."
"Oh," was all Dean could reply.
"We think it's your pal Nota and his sleazebag friend-the pair you hassled at Baratto's place."
"It looked like him," Dean mumbled.
"Lucky you, getting on the bad guy's list. Watch your back." Then he added, "We're probably going to have to move Vinnie Baratto again. If they're tailing you, the location's getting too hot. I already told Winston I want you to stay clear of Baratto for a few days." While it was in part at least an indictment that Dean had allowed himself to be followed, it was still the best news he'd heard in weeks.
Dean filled in to his lieutenant the details of the Norfolk trip, leaving out what he felt wasn't police business-a surprisingly large portion. Anderson, in turn, brought Dean up to date on Parkside news, especially the local excitement caused by the discovery of the body of Billie Wassermann. Billie-it was official now, identified or guessed at by the weeping Ida Wasserman, accompanied to the mortuary by Andy Sackler, who drew the short straw. The Ice Lady, Linda Segal, was going full bore at the Sentinel, trying to convince her reading public that the poor lad might have been saved had the local police properly conducted the search for the missing boy in a timely fashion. There was an office pool on how long it would be before Willie would float in. Dean took Thursday for five bucks, in absentia.
Rose Tisdale first sighted the blue car circling the block and called Flora Watkins. She in turn called her sister in Toledo, then Fred O'Connor because the occupants seemed to be watching his house. Fred managed to get the license number by walking around the block and returning to the house from the rear. He was proud as punch over his crime-fighting accomplishments. Dean congratulated him but issued a warning against getting too bold with characters who would burn their mother at a stake just to light their cigars.
There wasn't much left to Saturday but the time was spent lounging around, munching on Chinese takeout and drinking Coors beer. Mrs. Lincoln seemed pleased to have a variety of music instead of straight country and western, partial as she was to good jazz-plus there were two laps to alternate when the patting on one slacked off. Fred was back at it with his notes and was anxious to bring Dean up to date on the progress he'd make in Dean's absence.