“You may as well have sex while you’re at it.” I did not smile, for I found nothing amusim’ about his health risks.
“Doris cured me of sex.” Marino was serious, too, as He referred to the woman he’d been married to most of his life.
“When did you hear from her last”” I asked, as I realized she was probably the explanation for his mood.
The buildings and homes were thick with shadows, and anyone could wait in them and not be seen.
I looked across at my new car, and the small yard beyond it where the dog lay in wait. He was silent just now, and I walked north on the sidewalk for several yards to see what he might do. But he did not seem interested until I neared his yard. Then I heard the low, evil growling that raised the hair on the back of my neck. By the time I was unlocking my car door, he was on his hind legs, barking and shaking the fence.
“You’re just guarding your turf, aren’t you, boy?” I said. “I wish you could tell me what you saw last night.”
I looked at the small house as an upstairs window suddenly slid up.
“Bozo, shut up!” yelled a fat man with tousled hair.
“Shut up, you stupid mutt!” The window slammed shut.
“All right, Bozo,” I said to the dog who was not really called Outlaw, unfortunately for him. “I’m leaving you alone now.” I looked around one last time and got into my car.
The drive from Daigo’s restaurant to the restored area on Franklin where police had found my former car took less than three minutes if one were driving the posted speed. I turned around at the hill leading to Sugar Bottom, for to drive down there, especially in a Mercedes, was out of the question. That thought led to another.
I wondered why the assailant would have chosen to remain on foot in a restored area with a Neighborhood Watch program as widely publicized as the one here. Church Hill published its own newsletter, and residents looked out their windows and did not hesitate to call the cops, especially after shots had been tired. It seemed it might have been safer to have casually returned to my car and driven a safe distance away.
Yet the killer did not do this, and I wondered if he knew this area’s landmarks but not the culture because he really was not from here. I wondered if he had not taken my car because his own was parked nearby and mine was of no interest. He didn’t need it for money or to get away. That theory made sense if Danny had been followed instead of happened upon. While he was eating dinner, his assailant could have parked, then returned to the cafe on foot and waited in the dark near the Mercedes while the dog barked.
I was passing my building on Franklin when my pager vibrated against my side. I slipped it off and turned on its light so I could see. I had neither radio nor phone yet, and made a quick decision to turn into the OCME back parking lot. Letting myself in through a side door, I entered our security code, walked into the morgue and took the elevator upstairs. Traces of the day’s false alarm had vanished, but Rose’s death certificates suspended in air were an eerie display. Sitting behind my desk, I returned Marino’s page.
“Where the hell are you?” he said right off.
“The office,” I said, staring up at the clock.
“Well, I think that’s the last place you ought to be right now. And I bet you’re alone. You eaten yet?”
“What do you mean, this is the last place I should be right now?”
“Let’s meet and I’ll explain.”
We agreed to go to the Linden Row Inn, which was downtown and private. I took my time because Marino lived on the other side of the river, but he was quick. When I arrived, he was sitting at a table before the fire in the parlor. Off duty, he was drinking a beer. The bartender was a quaint older man in a black bow tie, and he was carrying in a big bucket of ice while Pachelbel played.