Rules of Prey

Sloan.“ Mailmen, neighbors, any doctors or medical people who came here . . .”
    “There was only a nurse,” she said.
    “But those are the kind of people we’re looking for.”
    Lucas listened for a few more minutes as Sloan worked to relax her, then broke in.
    “I have to leave,” he told Rice. “Detective Sloan will stay and chat with you, but I have a couple of quick questions. Okay?” He smiled at her and she glanced at Sloan and then back and nodded.
    “I’m looking for a white man, probably about my size, probably works in an office somewhere. He might have an accent, kind of southwestern. Kind of cowboy. Probably well-to-do. Does that jog anything in your memory? Do you remember anybody like that?”
    She frowned and looked down at her hands, at Sloan, and then around the kitchen. Finally she looked back at Lucas and said, “I don’t remember anyone like that. All our friends are white. There haven’t been any colored people in here. Nobody with a lot of money that I know of.”
    “Okay,” Lucas said, an impatient edge to his voice.
    “I’m trying to remember,” she said defensively.
    “That’s okay,” Lucas said. “Did your husband have people here that you didn’t know about?”
    “Well, he put a sign in the window for some things he wanted to sell. He had some of those little doll things he brought back from the war against the Japs. Those little carvings? Somebody bought those. He got five hundred dollars for fifteen of them. They were real cute things. Like little pigs and rats, all curled around.”
    “You don’t know who that was, who bought them?”
    “Oh, I think so. I got some kind of receipt somewhere.”
    She looked vaguely around the kitchen again.
    “Did you ever see the man who bought them?”
    “No, no, but I think he was older. You know, Larry’s age. I got that idea.”
    “Okay. Try to find that receipt and give it to Detective Sloan. Was there anybody else?”
    “The mailman would stop and talk, he’s a younger fellow, maybe forty. And a young fellow came out from the welfare. We weren’t on welfare,” she said hastily, “but we had some medical assistance coming . . .”
    “Sure,” said Lucas. “Listen, I’m going to run. We appreciate any cooperation you can give Detective Sloan.”
    Lucas went out through the kitchen door, let it close behind him, and walked down the steps. As he passed the kitchen window he heard Rice say, “ . . . don’t like that fellow so much. He makes me nervous.”
    “Quite a few people would agree with you, Mrs. Rice,” Sloan said soothingly. “Can I call you Mary? Detective Davenport is . . .”
    “Pushy,” said Rice.
    “Lot of people would agree with you, Mary. Look, I really hope we can work together to catch this killer . . .”
    Lucas smiled and walked out to his car, opened the door, looked inside for a moment, then shut it and walked back to the house.
    Inside, Sloan and Rice were looking at a steno pad on which Sloan had written a short list of names. They both looked up when Lucas came back in.
    “Could I use your telephone?” Lucas asked.
    “Yes, it’s right . . .” She pointed at the wall.
    Lucas looked in his notebook, dialed and got Carla Ruiz on the second ring.
    “This is Lucas. How many times were you in the courthouse on the divorce?”
    “Oh, four or five. Why?”
    “How about before you were attacked? Right before, or when?”
    “Let me go get my purse. I keep an organizer . . .”
    He heard the receiver land on the table and looked over at Rice.
    “Mrs. Rice, this guy from welfare. Did you have to go down to the county courthouse to see him, or did he come out here, or what?”
    “No, no, Larry was disabled when we found out he couldget some medical, so this fellow came out here. He came out twice. Nice boy. But I think Larry knew him from before, from work.”
    “That’s a county job. I thought your husband worked for the City of Minneapolis.”
    “Well, he did, but you know, people go back and forth all the time, between City Hall and the courthouse. Larry’s job, he knew everybody. Every time something went wrong, they called him because he could fix anything. He used to see . . . the police officer who gave us the gun down in the cafeteria.”
    Ruiz was back on the line.
    “I was over there three weeks and four weeks before,” she said.
    “Before you were attacked.”
    “Yes.”
    “Thanks. Listen, see you at six, but try to remember everybody you