Harlot's Moon by Edward Gorman Page B

Father Daly?"
    Hesitation. "You saw the earring when it fell out of my purse tonight."
    "Yes, I did." Obviously I did. I picked it up. Was she on something?
    I kept seeing her face, her beautiful, beautiful face. I felt almost giddy, her ridiculously lovely fashion, my ridiculously painful loneliness despite Felice's presence. Ellie had me dreaming high school dreams, me with a nice new red convertible, squiring the Homecoming Queen around town.
    Not that my life had ever been like that. The only convertible I'd ever owned had been a junker, and the Homecoming Queen of my senior year of high school had pronounced me a "dip-shit" in front of maybe twenty people. She'd been wearing white fabric pumps that matched her gown. During her mercy slow dance with me I'd trod mightily on her toes.
    "Bob said he knows you saw it — the other earring. Not the one in my purse, the one in the room. He knows you know he took it."
    "I kind've figured he did."
    "He'd be very angry if he knew I was talking to you."
    I sighed. "I guess I'm not sure what you'd like me to do exactly, Ellie."
    "Meet for lunch tomorrow."
    "Lunch?"
    "I need to talk to you. I may even hire you. We have plenty of money, if that's what you're concerned about."
    Her face again. Her grave wonderful eyes.
    "Where would you like to meet?" I said.
    "I was thinking of Thurber Park. There's a little restaurant down the street from the boat dock. They have good seafood."
    "I need to say something here, Ellie."
    "I know. You reserve the right to think that I'm guilty"
    "Yes. That's right."
    "My earring being there, I suppose your being suspicious is natural."
    "You were there last night with him, weren't you, Ellie?"
    "I think I hear Bob pulling in. I need to go. I'll see you about noon tomorrow then."
    She hung up fast, and I sighed. I was out of the mood for sleep now. I went back to my spare-room table.
    My cat Tasha came in and spent the next hour on my lap while I started working up the profile of Father Daly's killer and getting nowhere because I really didn't have enough data to work with.
    The problem is that no matter what anybody tells you, psychological profiling is not a science. It's an art. It works well in some cases, but almost all of the cases it works for are sex-related crimes, which includes almost all serial killings. Even a contract killer has a reason he's willing to do that work. It's also relevant to other serial crimes, especially arson that's not for profit.
    I wasn't sure I had a sex-related killing here. I wasn't sure I had a serial killing. If I did, I didn't know — or wasn't sure — what the prior crimes had been.
    If only I'd found those clippings somewhere other than in the victim's room . . .
    If wishes were horses, beggars would ride. If frogs had wings they wouldn't bump their butts when they hopped.
    Felice came in twice for kisses, and I went out there once for a kiss, and then I was back at it.

    When I heard the doorbell, the first thing I did was look at my wrist-watch on the table. It was late for visitors.
    "I'll get that," I called out.
    If there was a crazy at the door, I wanted to be the one to greet him.
    I stuffed my Luger into my pants pocket and walked through the apartment. Felice had given up on sleep. She was watching Jay Leno, clicking down the volume with the channel surfer.
    I walked to the door and peeked out through the spyhole. At first, I didn't recognize him. He looked just like any gray-haired and rather nondescript guy in his late sixties. Then I realized who he was and my stomach knotted up immediately.
    "Oh, shit," I said.
    "Is everything all right?" Felice said from the couch.
    "I'll explain later."
    I opened up the door and the first thing he said was, "Hey, I really like your new digs, Bobby. This is the kind of pad chicks love."
    New digs. Pad. Chicks.
    I only knew one person, besides Gilhooley of course, who still talked this way. And it was a person I didn't ever want to see again.
    I didn't know