hunt down a serial killer?'
'That's his real game,' Quinn said, 'not bogies and birdies. It's yours, too. Not standing around Fourth National-'
'Fifth.'
'-with a gun you'll never fire.'
'And never want to fire. Fedderman will tell you exactly what I'm going to tell you.'
'His wife left him, you know.'
'I know. Last year.'
'He's lonely.'
'How do you know?'
'I know.'
Pearl looked away from him. 'Don't try that crap with me, Quinn.'
'Well, think about it before you give me a definite answer.'
'Okay. I've thought about it. Answer's no. There's a time for everything, Quinn, and the time for us to track a killer who slices and dices his victims is way past.'
'You have to feel for those women.'
She let out a long sigh, he thought a bit dramatically. 'Feeling. That's something else I'm past.'
'Pearl-'
'I'm content, Quinn. Screw happiness. Contentment is enough. I get up and get through my days in a pleasant enough way, do my chores, live my life, not pulled this way and that like a…I don't know what.'
'Like you were with me?'
'Yeah. Like that. I need to be self-sufficient, Quinn. So do you. That's why we didn't make it together. Why we shouldn't work together. I want no part of Renz's operation.'
'Sounds almost final.'
She smiled and stood up from her chair, then walked over and leaned down so she could kiss his forehead. 'What a hard case you are, Quinn.'
'You, too.'
She didn't deny it.
He watched her walk out the door.
Before calling Fedderman in Florida, Quinn fired up a cigar and sat down at the desk in the spare bedroom that had become his den.
He leaned back and listened to the phone ringing in what was probably an empty condo in Boca something or other, Fedderman being out on the golf course, dazed and chasing a little white ball in the sun.
He was about to hang up when Fedderman picked up.
'Quinn?'
'How'd you know, Feds?'
'Caller ID. There's a widow I'm trying to avoid.' Fedderman had been alone since his wife left. Their grown kids had moved out several years before. If Quinn remembered right, the girl was working in Philadelphia; her brother was one of those people who never wanted to leave college and was away somewhere on a scholarship working on yet another degree.
Quinn propped his cigar in the square glass ashtray on the desk corner. The ashtray was from the old Biltmore Hotel, maybe a collector's item. 'I thought you'd be out on the golf course.'
'I gave up golf. It was driving me insane. Now I'm deep-sea fishing, but that's driving me nuts, too. You ever see the shit you pull out of the ocean? Most of it doesn't even look like fish.'
'Harley Renz came to see me yesterday.'
'He still such an asshole?'
'That's what Pearl asked. The answer's yes.'
'How is Pearl? You two still-?'
'We're not together. She's still Pearl.'
'Hmm. Who did the leaving?'
'Pearl.'
'Hmm. So what'd Renz want?'
Quinn told him.
'I'm in,' Fedderman said.
Quinn was surprised by how quickly the answer had come. He'd thought Fedderman liked at least some part of retirement and would prefer it to looking at dead bodies and maybe being shot at.
'So when can I expect you?' Quinn asked.
'Soon as I can catch a flight to New York. That's the thing about condo living, you can turn the key in the lock and leave. Don't have to worry about the weeds taking over the lawn. I'm looking forward to seeing you and Pearl.'
'Pearl's not in.'
'You serious?' Fedderman sounded amazed.
'She said she's happy being a bank guard.'
'Banks don't need guards. She knows that. Time I get to New York she'll have changed her mind.'
'Pearl doesn't change her mind.'
'She did about you.'
Quinn felt a stab of annoyance. On the other hand, this was what he liked about Fedderman. They'd worked together a long time and were completely honest with each other. Fedderman had a way of driving to the truth and to hell with the cost.
'I'll call you when I get into town,' Fedderman said. 'Meantime, you work on Pearl.'
He hung up before Quinn could reply.
Quinn replaced the receiver in its cradle and picked up his cigar from the ashtray on the desk. It had gone out. He relit it and settled back in his chair, thinking about what Fedderman had said. Thinking about Pearl. He'd worked with her, slept with her, lived with her, knew her.
Pearl doesn't change her mind.
He watched the smoke rise like a spirit and catch a draft up near the ceiling.
Pearl doesn't change her mind back.
4
Ida Ingrahm had a date.
Normally she wouldn't have made one with somebody she'd just met in a bar, but Jeff was different.
No, really different.
Seated at her mirror in her West Side apartment, she smiled at her reflection. Not unattractive, she thought. Full face with dark brown hair worn in bangs that made it look fuller. Not fat, mind you. And the rest of her was slim, except she didn't have much of a waist. Small breasts, legs okay. Especially with the right shoes.
Why do I have to appraise myself like this?
Ida knew the answer. Once they'd slept with her, men tended not to stick around. And she was way, way over thirty now. On the slide.
Time to panic?
She gave her reflection a brighter smile and decided, not yet. Hope lived. It wasn't that she wanted to get married. A lasting relationship was her goal. Modest enough, she thought. She saw other people achieve them. Meanwhile, life wasn't so terrible.
She liked her job as graphic designer for Higher Corporate Image, a company that produced promotional and motivational material for retail chains. It paid on the low side, if you didn't figure bonuses that were no sure thing, but there was a future. There was no glass ceiling at HCI. She could see her life ten years out, and it was okay, and
