'I don't wonder.'
'But I'll stick by it. Maybe he is crazy. But not in any traditional,
recognizable way. He's something altogether new.'
'You sense this?'
'Yes.'
'Psychically?'
'Yes.'
'Can you be more specific?'
'Sorry.
'Sense anything else?'
'Just what you heard on the Prine show.'
'Nothing new since you came here?'
'Nothing.
'If he's not insane at all, then there's a reason behind the killings,'
Preduski said thoughtfully. 'Somehow they're connected. Is that what
you're saying?'
'I'm not sure what I mean.'
'I don't see how they could be connected.'
'Neither do I.'
'I've been looking for a connection, really looking. I was hoping you
could pick up something here. From the bloody bedclothes. Or from this
mess on the table - '
'I'm blank,' Harris said. 'That's why I'm positive that either he is
sane, or he is insane in some whole new fashion. Usually, when I study
or touch an item intimately connected with the murder, I can pick up on
the emotion, the mania, the passion behind the crime. It's like leaping
into a river of violent thoughts, sensations, images.... This time all I
get is a feeling of cool, implacable, evil logic. I've never had so
much trouble drawing a bead on this kind of killer.'
'Me either,' Preduski said. 'I never claimed to be Sherlock Holmes. I'm
no genius. I work slow. Always have. And I've been lucky.
God knows. It's luck more than skill that's kept my arrest record high.
But this time I'm having no luck at all. None at all. Maybe it's time
for me to be put out to pasture.'
On his way out of the apartment, having left Ira Preduski in the kitchen
to ponder the remnants of the Butcher's macabre meal, Graham passed
through the living room and saw Sarah Piper. The detective had not yet
dismissed her. She was sitting on the sofa, her feet propped on the
coffee table. She was smoking a cigarette and staring at the ceiling,
smoke spiraling like dreams from her head; her back was to Graham.
The instant he saw her, a brilliant image flashed behind his eyes,
intense, breathtaking: Sarah Piper with blood all over her.
He stopped. Shaking. Waiting for more.
Nothing.
He strained. Tried to pluck more pictures from the ether.
Nothing. Just her face. And the blood. Gone now as quickly as it had
come to him.
She became aware of him. She turned around and said, 'Hi.'
He licked his lips, forced a smile.
