having a little trouble with that. Morey Gilbert caught it once in the head, real close. It doesn’t look like an accident or some kind of impulse shooting. What it looks like, and what it feels like, is an execution.’
Langer shook his head. ‘Impossible. Morey couldn’t have made an enemy if he tried. You can’t imagine how much good that man did in his life.’
‘Oh, we’re getting an idea,’ Gino said. ‘You saw the crowd outside the nursery today?’
‘Yeah. We got stuck in the jam on the way back from our scene.’
‘Well, we worked it a little, talked to some people, got an earful of good deeds.’ Gino licked some barbeque sauce off his thumb and started paging through his pocket notebook. ‘I got a list here of down-and-outs he gave money to, homeless people he dragged off the street and took home to dinner, if you can believe that, some guy with a gang tattoo and a Perry Ellis suit who claimed Morey Gilbert got him out of the life just by talking to him . . .’
That made Langer smile. ‘Talking is what he did best.’
‘And most.’ McLaren grinned. ‘Man, he could talk your ear off. But it wasn’t small talk, you know? I mean, this guy thought about the weirdest things in ways you never thought of.’
‘Like what?’ Magozzi asked.
‘Oh, jeez, a million things. Like the day Langer and I went over after the case was all wrapped up, and Morey found out I was Catholic – remember that, Langer?’
‘Oh, yeah.’
‘Anyway, he sits us down at the kitchen table, gives us a beer, and then starts asking me all these questions, like I was a priest or a scholar or something . . .’ McLaren shook his head a little, smiling, remembering.
So, Detective McLaren. They have saints, the Catholics. You know about these?
Sure, Morey.
Well, it just seems funny to me, the ones they picked. You know, Joan of Arc, she stabbed people with swords, and then there was St Francis who talked to birds . . . what is the connection there? There’s no consistency. And these are the people who are supposed to be putting in a good word with God when you can’t reach him directly, am I right?
Well, yes . . .
So my question is this: Now Moses, he had this one-on-one relationship with the big guy, you know? He talked to him personally, just like I’m talking to you. So if anybody should be interceding for anybody, you’d think it would be Moses. But they didn’t make Moses a saint. Now why do you think that is?
Uh, I think you have to be a Christian to be a saint.
Ah! You see what I’m saying? There’s no sense to the way you pick these people.
Hey, I don’t pick them . . .
Maybe you could talk to the people who do that sort of thing, eh? Because the thing is, they based their whole religion on Jesus and even he couldn’t be a saint because he was Jewish, not Christian. You see? No sense. I need your help understanding this.
Gino was smiling a little. ‘So he was a pretty religious guy, huh?’
McLaren thought about that for a minute. ‘Not religious, exactly. He just thought about that stuff a lot, like he was trying to figure it out, but I suppose that goes with the territory. He was in Auschwitz, did you know that?’
Gino nodded. ‘We knew he was in one of the camps. One of the assistant MEs showed me the tattoo at the scene.’
‘Gotta tell you, it just about blew my mind when I found that out. I mean, I never knew anybody who was in the camps before. Seems like that stuff happened a million years ago, you know? So here’s this guy who lives through God knows what kind of hell, and he comes out the other side loving his fellow man. I’m telling you guys, he was something. You would have liked him a lot.’
‘Aw, don’t say that.’ Gino got up and started shoving empty containers into a bag. ‘I don’t want to like dead people. There’s no percentage in it. Langer, are you just going to leave those chicken wings?’
‘You bet I am.’
Gino grabbed one and ripped off
Langer shook his head. ‘Impossible. Morey couldn’t have made an enemy if he tried. You can’t imagine how much good that man did in his life.’
‘Oh, we’re getting an idea,’ Gino said. ‘You saw the crowd outside the nursery today?’
‘Yeah. We got stuck in the jam on the way back from our scene.’
‘Well, we worked it a little, talked to some people, got an earful of good deeds.’ Gino licked some barbeque sauce off his thumb and started paging through his pocket notebook. ‘I got a list here of down-and-outs he gave money to, homeless people he dragged off the street and took home to dinner, if you can believe that, some guy with a gang tattoo and a Perry Ellis suit who claimed Morey Gilbert got him out of the life just by talking to him . . .’
That made Langer smile. ‘Talking is what he did best.’
‘And most.’ McLaren grinned. ‘Man, he could talk your ear off. But it wasn’t small talk, you know? I mean, this guy thought about the weirdest things in ways you never thought of.’
‘Like what?’ Magozzi asked.
‘Oh, jeez, a million things. Like the day Langer and I went over after the case was all wrapped up, and Morey found out I was Catholic – remember that, Langer?’
‘Oh, yeah.’
‘Anyway, he sits us down at the kitchen table, gives us a beer, and then starts asking me all these questions, like I was a priest or a scholar or something . . .’ McLaren shook his head a little, smiling, remembering.
So, Detective McLaren. They have saints, the Catholics. You know about these?
Sure, Morey.
Well, it just seems funny to me, the ones they picked. You know, Joan of Arc, she stabbed people with swords, and then there was St Francis who talked to birds . . . what is the connection there? There’s no consistency. And these are the people who are supposed to be putting in a good word with God when you can’t reach him directly, am I right?
Well, yes . . .
So my question is this: Now Moses, he had this one-on-one relationship with the big guy, you know? He talked to him personally, just like I’m talking to you. So if anybody should be interceding for anybody, you’d think it would be Moses. But they didn’t make Moses a saint. Now why do you think that is?
Uh, I think you have to be a Christian to be a saint.
Ah! You see what I’m saying? There’s no sense to the way you pick these people.
Hey, I don’t pick them . . .
Maybe you could talk to the people who do that sort of thing, eh? Because the thing is, they based their whole religion on Jesus and even he couldn’t be a saint because he was Jewish, not Christian. You see? No sense. I need your help understanding this.
Gino was smiling a little. ‘So he was a pretty religious guy, huh?’
McLaren thought about that for a minute. ‘Not religious, exactly. He just thought about that stuff a lot, like he was trying to figure it out, but I suppose that goes with the territory. He was in Auschwitz, did you know that?’
Gino nodded. ‘We knew he was in one of the camps. One of the assistant MEs showed me the tattoo at the scene.’
‘Gotta tell you, it just about blew my mind when I found that out. I mean, I never knew anybody who was in the camps before. Seems like that stuff happened a million years ago, you know? So here’s this guy who lives through God knows what kind of hell, and he comes out the other side loving his fellow man. I’m telling you guys, he was something. You would have liked him a lot.’
‘Aw, don’t say that.’ Gino got up and started shoving empty containers into a bag. ‘I don’t want to like dead people. There’s no percentage in it. Langer, are you just going to leave those chicken wings?’
‘You bet I am.’
Gino grabbed one and ripped off
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