On the way home from Gabby's studio, Lennox took a wide detour and stopped off at the Precinct where he found Fink in a small office that smelled of disinfectant. Fink was doing paper work at a scarred desk and looked more like a bank clerk than ever. Lennox sat down and told his story from Cooper's recognition of the handwriting to Aimee Driscoll's last words the night before. He handed over the page from his gimmick book that contained the hysterical scrawled message. Fink was neither impressed nor unimpressed. He listened carefully, smiling at the wrong times, then bobbed his head. "I was pretty sure it was you getting the letters," he said. "How?" Lennox blinked. "I didn't know myself." "You make the big fuss. You must have known somewhere inside your head." "You're quite a psychologist." "No. Strictly statistics. I wish I had a nickel for every guy in a jam who won't admit it. They make the big fuss and claim they're worried about somebody else. Turns out they're really stewing about theirselves." "I hate like hell to be a statistic, Bob." "We all are. There's hundreds of laws in the statute books, but cops depend on one law most of all. The law of averages." "Is this an average case?" "It's tough." "Does any of this stuff I gave you help?" "Maybe. We'll check. I like what this Cooper said best." "About having seen the writing before?" Fink nodded and smiled. "Why?" "I'm pretty sure someone on your program is writing the letters. That's why I like what this Cooper said best." "Someone on the show?" "Yeah. Ninety-nine out of a hundred it turns out like that. Someone in the office. Someone in the factory. Someone in the department store. We've been going over payroll vouchers and check endorsements on your program." "Law of averages again. And?" "We'll see." Fink smiled. "This Cooper is a good friend of yours, huh?" "We share an apartment. Why?" "How long?" "About a year." "How long's he been on your program?" "He's worked the show since it started. Over nine months. What is all this?" "You and this Cooper ever fight?" "Now wait a minute, Bob. I'm no fool. If you're headed in that direction, I don't buy any of it. Not Sam." "Funny, this Cooper not remembering where he saw the writing." "He's got troubles of his own to remember." "Sometimes a grudge lasts a long time." "What grudge?" "You tell me." "There's nothing to tell. The whole idea's for laughs." "Tough," Fink murmured. "Forget Sam, will you! If it has to be someone on the show, maybe it's a stagehand or a cameraman named Knott. Do we have a Knott on the payroll?" "No," Fink said. "That's what makes it tough." "Can you get me off the hook by Sunday?"