Sacred Sins

voice didn't get a rise out of him, she sent him an arch look and handed him the paper. “She wants to know what time you're picking her up. She sounded real cute, Paris.”
    He pocketed the slip and grinned. “She is real cute, Lowenstein, but I'd dump her in a minute if you wanted to cheat on your husband.”

    When he walked off without returning her drink, she laughed and went back to typing out the form.
    “They're turning my apartment into condos.” Ed hung up the phone and went with Ben toward Harris's office. “Fifty thousand. Jesus.”
    “It's got bad plumbing.” Ben drained the rest of the Pepsi and tossed it into a can.
    “Yeah. Got any vacancies over at your place?”
    “Nobody leaves there unless they die.”
    Through the wide glass window of Harris's office they could see the captain standing by his desk as he talked on the phone. He'd kept himself in good shape for a man of fifty-seven who'd spent the last ten years behind a desk. He had too much willpower to run to fat. His first marriage had gone under because of the job, his second because of the bottle. Harris had given up booze and marriage, and now the job took the place of both. The cops in his department didn't necessarily like him, but they respected him. Harris preferred things that way. Glancing up, he signaled for both men to enter.
    “I want the lab reports before five. If there was a piece of lint on her sweater, I want to know where it came from. Do your job. Give me something to work with so I can do mine.” When he hung up, he went over to his hot plate and poured coffee. After five years he still wished it were scotch. “Tell me about Francie Bowers.”
    “She's been working tables at Doug's for almost a year. Moved to D.C. from Virginia last November. Lived alone in an apartment in North West.” Ed shifted his weight and checked his notebook. “Married twice, neither lasted over a year. We're checking out both exes. She worked nights and slept days, so her neighbors don't know much about her. She got off work at one. Apparently she cut through the alley to get to the bus stop. She didn't own a car.”

    “Nobody heard anything,” Ben added. “Or saw anything.”
    “Ask again,” Harris said simply. “And find someone who did. Anything more on number one?”
    Ben didn't like victims by numbers, and stuck his hands in his pockets. “Carla Johnson's boyfriend's in L.A., got a bit part on a soap. He's clean. It appeared she'd had an argument with another student the day before she was killed. Witnesses said it got pretty hot.”
    “He admitted it,” Ed continued. “Seems they'd dated a couple of times and she wasn't interested.”
    “Alibi?”
    “Claims he got drunk and picked up a freshman.” With a shrug, Ben sat on the arm of a chair. “They're engaged. We can bring him in again, but neither of us believes he had anything to do with it. He's got no connection with Clayton or Bowers. When we checked him over, we found out that the kid's the all-American boy from an upper-middle-class family. Lettered in track. It's more likely Ed's a psychotic than that college boy.”
    “Thanks, partner.”
    “Well, check him out again anyway. What's his name?”
    “Robert Lawrence Dors. He drives a Honda Civic and wears polo shirts.” Ben drew out a cigarette. “White loafers and no socks.”
    “Roderick'll bring him in.”
    “Wait a minute—”
    “I'm assigning a task force to this business,” Harris said, cutting Ben off. He poured a second cup of coffee. “Roderick, Lowenstein, and Bigsby'll be working with you. I want this guy before he kills the next woman who happens to be out walking alone.” His voice remained mild, reasonable, and final. “You have a problem with that?”

    Ben strode to the window and stared out. It was personal, and he knew better. “No, we all want him.”
    “Including the mayor,” Harris added with only the slightest trace of bitterness. “He wants to be able to give the press something positive by the end of the week. We're calling in a psychiatrist to give us a profile.”
    “A shrink?” With a half laugh, Ben turned around. “Come on, Captain.”
    Because he didn't like it either, Harris's voice chilled. “Dr. Court has agreed to cooperate with us, at the mayor's request. We don't know what he looks like, maybe it's time we found out how he thinks. At this point,” he added with a level glance at both men, “I'm willing to look into a crystal ball if we'd get a lead