"I know," Malone said. "I've read the reports."
"Listen, not a single red Cadillac has been stolen from here, or been reported found here. We run a tight precinct here, and let me tell you—"
"I'm sure you do a fine job," Malone said hastily. "But I want you to look at the notebook. The first page."
Lynch opened his mouth, closed it, and then flipped the notebook cover. He stared at the first page for a few seconds. "What's this?" he said at last. "Another gag?"
"No gag, Lieutenant," Malone said.
"It's your name and mine," Lynch said. "What is that supposed to mean?"
Malone shrugged. "Search me," he said. "The notebook was found only a couple of feet away from another car theft, last night." That was the simplest way he could think of to put it. "So I asked the Commissioner who Peter Lynch was, and he told me it was you."
"And, by God, it is," Lynch said, staring at the notebook. He seemed to be expecting it to rise and strike him.
Malone said, "Have you got any idea who'd be writing about you and me?"
Lynch shook his head. "If I had any ideas I'd feel a lot better," he said.