Mr. Murder

sitting around hotel rooms staring at walls, maids would comment to one another, think he's weird, remember him.
        Besides, what's the harm in a movie, some television?"
        "Cultural influences. They could change him somehow."
        "It's nature that matters, how he was engineered, not what he did with his Saturday afternoon. Oslett leaned back in his chair, feeling guardedly better, having convinced himself to some degree, if not Waxhill. "Check into the past. But you won't find anything."
        "Maybe we already have. A prostitute in Kansas City. Strangled in a cheap motel across the street from a bar called the Blue Life Lounge.
        Two different bartenders at the lounge gave the Kansas City Police a description of the man she left with. Sounds like Alfie."
        Oslett had perceived a bond of class and experience between himself and Peter Waxhill. He had even entertained the prospect of friendship.
        Now he had the uneasy feeling that Waxhill was taking pleasure from being the bearer of all this bad news.
        Waxhill said, "One of our contacts managed to get us a sample of the sperm that the Kansas City Police Scientific Investigation Division recovered from the prostitute's vagina. It's being flown to our New York lab now. If it's Alfie's sperm, we'll know."
        "He can't produce sperm. He was engineered-"
        "Well, if it's his, we'll know. We have his genetic structure mapped, we know it better than Rand McNally knows the world. And it's unique.
        More individual than fingerprints."
        Yale men. They were all alike. Smug, self-satisfied bastards.
        Clocker picked up a plump hot-house strawberry between thumb and forefinger. Examining it closely, as if he had excruciatingly high standards for comestibles and would not eat anything that failed to pass his demanding inspection, he said, "If Alfie's drawn to Martin Stillwater, then what we need to know is where we can find Stillwater now." He popped the entire berry, half as large as a lemon, onto his tongue and into his mouth, in the manner of a toad taking a fly.
        "Last night we sent a man into their house for a look around," Waxhill said. "Indications are, they packed in a hurry. Bureau drawers left open, clothes scattered around, a few empty suitcases left out after they decided not to use them. Judging by appearances, they don't intend to return home within the next few days, but we're having the place watched just in case."
        "And you have no idea in hell where to find them," Oslett said, taking perverse pleasure in putting Waxhill on the defensive.
        Unruffled, Waxhill said, "We can't say where they are at this moment, no-"
        "Ah."
        "-but we think we can predict one place we can get a lead on them.
        Stillwater's parents live in Mammoth Lakes. He has no other relatives on the West Coast, and unless there's a close friend we don't know about, he's almost certain to call his father and mother, if not go there."
        "What about the wife's parents?"
        "When she was sixteen, her father shot her mother in the face and then killed himself."
        "Interesting." What Oslett meant was that the tawdriness of the average person's life never ceased to amaze him.
        "It is interesting, actually," Waxhill said, perhaps meaning some thing different from what Oslett meant. "Paige came home from school and found their bodies. For a few months, she was under the guardianship of an aunt. But she didn't like the woman, and she filed a petition with the court to have herself declared a legal adult."
        "At sixteen?"
        "The judge was sufficiently impressed with her to rule in her favor.
        It's rare but it does happen."
        "She must've had one hell of an attorney."
        "I suppose she did. She studied the applicable statutes and precedents, then represented herself."
        The situation was bleaker all the time. Even if he'd been lucky, Martin Stillwater had gotten the better of Alfie, which meant he was a more formidable man than the jerk in People. Now it was beginning to seem as if his wife had more than a common measure of fortitude, as well, and would make a worthy adversary.
        Oslett said, "To push Stillwater to get in touch with his folks, we should use Network affiliates in the media to hype the incidents at his house last night onto the front page."
        "We are," Peter Waxhill said