Sacred Sins

it some thought.”
    “And don't worry. If you decide against it, I'll still bring you a piece of pie. I've got a patient waiting.”
    “Tess—”
    “Yes?”
    “Nothing. Nothing,” he repeated. “See you later.”
    “Paris.”
    “Sorry.” He hung up the phone and turned. “What you got?”
    Pilomento handed him a sheet of paper. “We finally tracked down that name the neighbor gave us.”
    “The guy who was hanging around the Leery girl?”
    “Right. Amos Reeder. Not much of a description because the neighbor only saw him come by once. Creepy looking was about the upshot, but she admitted she only saw him go to the Leerys' once, and there wasn't any trouble.”
    Ben was already picking up his jacket. “We always check out creepy looking.”

    “I got an address and rap sheet.”
    Before he stuffed his pack of cigarettes into his pocket, he noted with some disgust that he only had two left. “What'd he do time for?”
    “When he was seventeen he carved another kid up for pocket money. Reeder had a nickle bag of pot in his pocket and a line of needle marks on his arm. Other kid pulled through, Reeder was tried as a minor, got drug rehab. Harris said you and Jackson should have a talk with him.”
    “Thanks.” Taking the papers, he headed to the conference room, where Ed had his head together with Bigsby on the Priest homicide. “Saddle up,” Ben said briefly, and started toward the door.
    Ed lumbered beside him, already bundling into his coat. “What's up?”
    “Got a lead on the Leery case. Young punk who likes knives was hanging around the girl. Thought we might chat awhile.”
    “Sounds good.” Ed settled comfortably in the car. “How about Tammy Wynette?”
    “Kiss ass.” Ben punched in a cassette of Goat's Head Soup . “Tess called a few minutes ago.”
    Ed opened one eye. He considered it best to handle the Rolling Stones blind. “Problem?”
    “No. Well, yeah, I guess. She wants me to have Thanksgiving dinner with her grandfather.”
    “Whoa, turkey with Senator Writemore. Think he needs a caucus to decide whether it's going to be oyster or chestnut dressing?”
    “I knew I was going to get grief on this.” More for spite than out of desire, Ben pulled out a cigarette.
    “It's okay, I got it out of my system. So you're going to have Thanksgiving dinner with Tess and her grand-daddy. What's the problem?”

    “First it's Thanksgiving, then before you know it, it's Sunday brunch. Then Aunt Mabel's coming over to check you out.”
    Ed dug in his pocket, decided to save the yogurt-covered raisins for later, and settled for sugarless gum. “Does Tess have an Aunt Mabel?”
    “Try to follow the trend here, Ed.” He downshifted and brought the car to a halt at a stop sign. “You turn around twice and you're invited to her cousin Laurie's wedding and her Uncle Joe is punching you in the ribs with his elbow and asking when you're going to take the plunge.”
    “All that because of mashed potatoes and gravy.” Ed shook his head. “Amazing.”
    “I've seen it happen. I tell you, it's scary.” “Ben, you've got bigger things to worry about than if Tess has an Aunt Mabel. Scarier things.”
    “Oh, yeah, like what?”
    “Do you know how much undigested red meat is clogging up your intestines?”
    “Jesus, that's disgusting.”
    “You're telling me. My point here, Ben, is that you can worry about nuclear waste, acid rain, and your own cholesterol intake. Keep these things in the front of your mind and join the senator for dinner. If he starts looking like he's ready to welcome you into the family, do something to throw him off.”
    “Such as?”
    “Eat your cranberry sauce with your fingers. Here's the place.”
    Ben pulled up at the curb then tossed his cigarette through the crack of his window. “You've been a big help, Ed. Thanks.”
    “Any time. How do you want to handle this?”
    From the car Ben studied the building. It had seen better days. Much better days. There were a couple of broken windows with newspapers clogging the holes.

    Graffiti was splashed lavishly on the east wall. Cans and broken bottles were in more profusion than grass.
    “He's in 303. Fire escape's on the third floor. If he bolts, I don't want to chase him all over his own territory.”
    Ed dug a dime out of his pocket. “We flip to see who goes in and who covers the back.”
    “Fine. Heads I go in, tails I climb up the fire escape and cover the window. Oh, no, not in here.” Ben put a hand