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“Yeah, let’s go,” said the security guy. “Mr. Van Horn don’t want you in here no more. Keep movin’ out the door.”

“Resist a little,” Trinkus whispered. “Make him cuff you.”

O’Malley shrugged that off and followed his crew and the Cha

No sooner had the media departed than two burly guys in jackets and sport shirts strode into the kitchen. The older, larger, grayer of the two asked for Mr. Van Horn and introduced himself as Detective Lieutenant Card Sanders of the Albany Police Department. The smaller one was a Sergeant Lester Nechemias.

Glancing uninterestedly past Art and Antoine, Sanders asked me if I was PI Strachey, and when I said I was he asked Hu

Hu

“Does your mother have heart trouble? Is she on some kind of medication?” Sanders asked.

“Just Ativan once in a while. Mom would prefer bourbon, but 88 Richard Stevenson

Golden Gardens keeps her on the straight and narrow in that regard.”

“Mr. Van Horn, we’ll do everything we can to get your mother back unharmed,” Sanders said. “Verizon is set up, and when the kidnappers call back at six thirty we’ll know within a minute or two where the call is originating. If it’s a cell — and they may be smart enough to use one — the caller may be in motion and it will take longer to triangulate on the location. So what I’d recommend is that you make a plan to hand over the cash. What you want to do is, try to get the kidnappers to make a switch at a particular location, your mom for the money. But if they absolutely insist that the cash be dropped in one place and they say they’ll release your mom someplace else, you’ll just have to go along. APd is getting together a bag of twenty thousand dollars in marked bills and that bag should arrive here by six fifteen. You can repay APD the twenty K tomorrow at District Two after the banks open.”

“Get my mom back in one piece,” Hu

Art screwed up his face and Antoine’s jaw dropped.

Sanders said, “That’s not at all necessary, Mr. Van Horn.”

Sergeant Nechemias added, “Police officers are not permitted to accept gratuities from citizens, sir.”

“I used to hate the Albany cops with a passion,” Hu

“Back in the eighties, I got dragged into District Two seven times for giving blowjobs in the park, even though I wasn’t harming a living soul.”

The two detectives pursed their lips in apparent disapproval of the Albany police tactics of an earlier era but did not offer any present-day endorsement of public-park free love.

I said, “After Mr. Van Horn won the lottery, his being gay brought out a certain amount of right-wing hostility from individuals and from groups such as the Family Preservation Association of Albany. I take it you all are having a look at them, at least in co

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“At least,” Sanders said, but didn’t expand on that. He did add, “Don’t worry. APd has plenty of experience in handling the weirdo types that celebrities can attract.” Apparently the detective meant that Hu

The phone rang again. Hu

showed that the time was just five fifty, forty minutes before the kidnappers said they would call back.

Sanders said, “Answer it. The call is being monitored.”

Sanders took out a cell phone. “I’ll be able to listen in on this.”

Hu

“Oh, wait!” Hu

everything else.”

Hu

too. Well, he’ll call back if it’s important. Anyway, I don’t even remember why he called.”

“Probably about your mom,” Antoine said. “Did Nelson say the sheriff is calling off the search?”

“Yes, the East Greenbush authorities got wind of the kidnapping, and also I suppose budget considerations are coming into play. Plus, it’s suppertime, and Methodists like to eat. Oh Lord, I wonder if the kidnappers are feeding Mom. She likes to eat at five thirty sharp, and now it’s past six.”

The phone rang again, and Hu

Hu

Hu

Art said, “You should tell them that if they call again at meal time you’re going to give a billion dollars to the Republicans.

Though they might think you’re joking.”

“No, in fact if they call back I am going to make a big donation to the Democrats. Maybe fifty million or something. Oh, Lord, Art, I guess I do have to be a little careful with my money. If I give everybody at BJ’s a million — everybody except Dave DeCarlo, that is — and fifty million to the Democratic Senatorial Campaign Fund, and a thousand to Stu Hood, and a thousand to Mason Doebler, plus the flat-screen TVs at Golden Gardens, and then of course maybe half a billion to the Brienings, oh my God, I’m going to be down to my last couple of hundred million dollars. And then of course I promised the twins I’d put them through medical school, too. That’s sure to cost an arm and a leg.”