my . Preduski read the two pages. 'He gave you no clue to who else he's
going to kill tonight?'
'Just what's there.'
'This phone call is out of character.'
'And it's out of character for him to strike two nights in a row,'
Martin said.
'It's also not like him to kill two women who knew each other and worked
together.'
Martin raised his eyebrows. 'You think Sarah Piper knew something?'
'You mean, did she know who killed her friend?'
'Yeah. You think he killed Sarah to keep her from talking?'
'No. He probably just saw both of them at the Rhinestone Palace and
couldn't make up his mind which he wanted the most. She didn't know
who-murdered Edna Mowry. I'd bet my life on that. Of course I'm not
the best judge of character you'll ever meet. I'm pretty dense when it
comes to people. God knows. Dense as stone. But this time I think I'm
right. If she had known, she would have told me. She wasn't the kind
of girl who could hide a thing like that. She was open.
Forthright.
Honest in her way. She was damned nice.'
Glancing at the dead woman's face, which was surprisingly unmarked and
clear of blood in the midst of so much gore, Martin said. 'She was
lovely.'
'I didn't mean just nice-looking,' Preduski said. 'She was a nice
person.
Martin nodded.
'She had a soft Georgia accent that reminded me of home.'
'Home?' Martin was confused. 'You're from Georgia?'
'Why not?'
'Ira Preduski from Georgia?'
'They do have Jews and Slavs down there.'
'Where's your accent?'
'My parents weren't born in the South, so they didn't have an accent to
pass on to me. And we moved North when I was four, before I had time to
pick it up.'
For a moment they stared at the late Sarah Piper and at the pair of
technicians who bent over her like Egyptian attendants of death.
Preduski turned away from the corpse, took a handkerchief from his
pocket and blew his nose.
'The coroner's in the kitchen,' Martin said. His face was pale and
greasy with sweat. 'He said he wanted to see you when you checked in.'
'Give me a few minutes,' Preduski said. 'I want to look around here a
bit and talk with these fellows.'
'Mind if I wait in the living room?'
'No. Go ahead.'
Martin shuddered. 'This is a rotten job.'
'Rotten,' Preduski agreed.
The gunshot boomed and echoed in the dark corridor.
The lock shattered, and the wood splintered under the impact of the
bullet.
