matter.' A man of substance, old Rashad, a man used to being a public presence, prepared to take no guff from a midlevel functionary on the police force. It gave me goose pimples just to watch him.
'You read the papers?' Quirk said.
'Of course,' Rashad said. His hair was a close-cropped Afro. His mustache was carefully trimmed. He wore a dark blue suit and a white shirt with long collar points, and a blue-and-red-striped tie. Around his neck was a gold chain and from it a gold medallion hung on his chest, on top of the tie. On the medallion was the raised profile of an African.
'That's the progress we're making,' Quirk said.
The white woman, Ms. Quince, leaned slightly forward. She was scowling with concentration.
'You know nothing that hasn't been reported in the papers?' she said.
'Just about,' Quirk said.
'Not good enough, Lieutenant,' Rashad said.
'No,' Ms. Quince said. 'We wish to know everything.'
'Why?' Quirk said.
Ms. Quince opened her mouth and closed it and looked at Rashad.
Clancy said, 'Lieutenant Quirk.' Rashad said, 'That's all right, Jerry, I can handle the Lieutenant.'
Tuttle spoke for the first time. 'Lieutenant, I would hate to have to report to Pat Wilson that you were uncooperative.'
Quirk was quiet.
It was Reverend Trenton's turn. He spoke very softly. 'We are here, Lieutenant Quirk, to ascertain if the police are doing everything possible on this matter. It is a matter of great concern to the black community, to women, to every one of us who opposes racism in this city.'
'And sexism,' Ms. Quince said.
'And murder,' Quirk said. 'And the misuse of clothesline.'
'Lieutenant,' Ms. Quince said. 'That is uncalled for.'
Quirk nodded. 'Sure it is, Ms. Quince. I apologize. But the thing is, your visit is uncalled for too.' Rashad said, 'Every citizen of this community has the right to hold you accountable.'
'Sure,' Quirk said.
'And there is a vicious racist, sexist killer out there, a self-admitted member of your department. We want answers, not smart remarks, and we want them now.'
'You may have to settle for smart remarks,' Quirk said. 'Because I don't have any answers.' Clancy said, 'Martin, there's no need to be angry.'
'The hell there isn't,' Quirk said. 'They come in here to be sure I'm doing my job, like I'd forget about it if they didn't.'
'Lieutenant,' Trenton said, 'the black community cannot be blamed for viewing the police with suspicion. How assiduous have you been in the past in solving what I've heard some of you call a 'shine' killing?'
I saw Quirk take a long breath. He let his chair tilt forward and put his hand flat on his desktop.
'Reverend,' he said, 'I am a professional homicide investigator. I've been one for twenty-seven years. I try to solve every murder, and catch every murderer, because I am employed to do that, and because I want to do that. I do that whether anyone is watching me or not, whether the victim is black or white, male or female; whether the commissioner wants me to or you want me to or God wants me to.' Quirk paused. No one spoke.
'Now, you people,' Quirk said, 'you people are not employed to catch murderers, and if you were employed to do it, you wouldn't know how. But here you are. If you can be honest with yourselves, you know that coming here won't catch the murderer. You're here so that you can tell your voters or your parishioners or your members that you're on top of things and that you are, therefore, the cat's ass.'
When Quirk stopped speaking there was enough silence in the room to walk on.
Finally Rashad said, 'Well, clearly, with that attitude there is little point in continuing.' Quirk smiled pleasantly.
Tuttle looked at me. 'I will be reporting this meeting to Commissioner Pat Wilson,' he said. 'Might I know who you are?'
'Orotund Vowel,' I said. 'I'm the lieutenant's elocution teacher.'
Tuttle stared at me. He knew he was being kidded but he didn't know what to say. Finally he turned and led them out.
'Orotund Vowel?' Quirk said.
I shrugged.
'You're a strange bastard,' he said.
'… 7 was hers all the time I was a kid,' he was saying.
'Her what?' the therapist said.
'What do you mean, 'her what'? I was her son.'
The therapist nodded.
