Suspects by Thomas Berger

merchandise, instead of being at work. Is that right?”
    Masters maintained a sullen silence. “Where you living?”
    The young man’s chin came up. He gave an address in a seedy part of town, but said he was hitting the road to look for work elsewhere.
    â€œWhat’s the duck for?”
    â€œTo give to a girl I know,” Masters said. “As a joke.”
    â€œYou don’t go around looking for little kids to pick up, do you?”
    â€œOh, for God’s sake,” the youth said in disgust. “Look, it’s a little rubber toy. I didn’t get out the door with it, and I didn’t run or resist when I was asked to stop. I could have, and nobody here could have caught me, because the big guy was in back. But I faced the music. Can’t I work it off? Do something here in this storeroom? That’s what I’ve been doing lately, stacking or opening cartons and so on at the Valmarket. I’m no criminal.”
    Still crowding him, McCall asked about the knife. “It’s not just a box cutter, though, is it? You loosen the screw and extend the blade, and you got quite a weapon, wouldn’t you say? It’s a utility knife, really, isn’t it? You don’t use that in fights or anything, do you, Mr. Masters? Or maybe to hold up stores not guarded by big fellows like that?”
    â€œI told you what it’s for. If I wanted to use it in a fight, I’d have to carry a screwdriver too, to open the blade.”
    â€œOr a dime,” said McCall, grinning. “Just a dime.”
    â€œOr just a penny,” said Marevitch, who had come up to them. “But you don’t have one, do you?” He smirked at the youth and went back to where Sawyer and Merryweather remained standing. “Mr. Sawyer,” he said in an undertone, “of course if you want us to arrest this kid, we’ll do it, but in my opinion he won’t come back here again if you let him go this once. It’s gonna take a lot of your time if you prefer charges, and in view of the value of the merchandise, he’ll certainly walk. They haven’t got cell room for all the real bad guys.”
    Winston Merryweather suddenly said, in his tenor, “He’ll be welcome to come to my church program for kids like him.”
    Sawyer said, smiling benevolently, “Winston’s a preacher. He just moonlights here.” Thinking of this apparently put the manager into a more conciliatory mood. “All right, Officer. I guess you know what you’re doing.”
    â€œSee,” said Marevitch, “it would be different if a lot of big-ticket items had been boosted.”
    Mr. Sawyer had another, bleaker thought. “What’s the latest on the liquor-store killing?”
    Marevitch nodded soberly. “They’ll get ‘em, you’ll see.”
    â€œDoes it look like the same gang who’s been doing it to all those others?”
    â€œI tell you, that’s not my department, but I know the detectives will nail it down soon. They always do.” He did not mention that he and his partner had been first on the scene of the Howland murders, for he did not want to discuss the case with Sawyer. As to the liquor-store robbery-killings, they had all taken place in other precincts than theirs.
    â€œIt’s just been the liquor stores so far,” Sawyer pointed out, “but you worry they might change to other retail businesses one of these days. They come in shooting, don’t they? Winston’s unarmed. You know they won’t let security guards carry guns.”
    â€œCity ordinance,” Marevitch said. “I tell you, the kind of people on the city council, you’re lucky the police can carry weapons. But don’t quote me on that, Mr. Sawyer. Now let’s take this villain off your hands.” He smiled at the big black man. “Great to meet you, Winston. Or is it Reverend Merryweather?”
    â€œEither,”