"I'm right here in town for the moment." He wrote down the number of the motel where he was staying. "If I'm not in, leave your number and I'll get back to you."
"Very well." He took the slip of notepaper and started up the steps toward the front door.
"Sure you don't want to take another look?"
"I've committed it to memory. I'll be in touch. Good day, Sergeant."
"Good day, Professor Sanders."
What a tight-ass.
But Renny didn't care if Sanders farted in C above high C, as long as he remembered the guy who reminded him of Father Ryan.
There was a new lightness to his step as he hopped down to the sidewalk and headed for the last name on his list—Professor Calvin Rogers. Too old, apparently, to be Ryan. A wasted trip, probably, but Renny wasn't leaving anything to chance. After all, look what a five-minute conversation with this Professor Sanders had turned up.
Yeah. Renny had a gut feeling Sanders was going to turn this trip around..«
"I don't believe we're doing this," Lisl said in a low voice as she followed Rafe into the vestibule of Ev's apartment building.
"Nothing to it," he said, and handed her a shiny new key, fresh cut from Ev's own this afternoon.
Reluctantly she took it. She had the jitters.
"I don't like this, Rafe."
"It's not as if we're going to steal anything. We're just going to look around. So let's get going. The sooner we get in there, the sooner we'll be out."
Unable to argue with the logic of that, and wanting very much to have this over and done with, Lisl unlocked the vestibule door. With Rafe in the lead, half dragging her up the narrow stairs, they climbed to the third floor. Outside apartment 3B, Rafe handed her another key. Her fingers were slippery with perspiration now.
"What if he's in there?"
"Put your ear to the door," Rafe said.
Lisl did. "The phone's ringing."
Rafe nodded, smiling. "Remember that call I made before we left?"
"When you left the phone off the hook?"
"Right. This is the number I called. There was no answer then, and if it's still ringing, it means he hasn't come back while we were in transit."
Wondering at the deviousness of Rafe's mind, Lisl checked the hall to make sure no one was watching, then unlocked Ev's apartment door and hurried inside. When the door was closed behind them, she allowed herself to relax—just a little.
Rafe found the light switch, then the phone; he lifted the receiver long enough to stop the ring, then replaced it.
Silence.
"Now," he said. "Where do we begin?"
Lisl looked around. Her immediate impression was that nobody lived here. The only personal item was the computer terminal, a duplicate of hers, with a dedicated line to Darnell's Cray II. Remove that and the apartment was like a hotel room after the cleaning crew had passed through—freshly spruced up and waiting for someone to rent it. It wasn't decorated like a hotel room, not with this motley collection of furniture, but it had that just-cleaned, everything-in-its-place look and feel. She wondered idly if there was a paper ribbon across the toilet seat.
"Let's get out of here," she said.
"We just got here." He strolled from the front living room to the study at the rear, into the bedroom, and back again. "The man lives like a monk—a neatnik monk with vows of cleanliness and orderliness."
"Nothing un-Prime about that," Lisl said.
"Yes, there is. It shows an obsessive-compulsive personality. A Prime would be able to overcome it."
"Maybe he's a damaged Prime, like me."
Rafe gave her a long look. "Maybe. But I'll reserve judgment until after we've made our search."
"All right, but let's hurry. I don't want him coming back and finding us here."
"He won't. But be careful to put everything back just the way you found it. And let me know when you come across anything that looks like a bank book. We both have a pretty good idea what Darnell is paying him and we know he can live better than this. Where's his money going?" His grin became wolfish. "Maybe somebody's blackmailing him."
Lisl opened the refrigerator. It was pitiful inside. Nonfat yogurt, orange juice, fruit, corn oil margarine, some lettuce, a red pepper, and some low-fat Swiss cheese.
Rafe glanced in over her shoulder.
"He eats like you do."
"Maybe he's a health nut—or he's got a cholesterol problem."
But Rafe had already wandered over to Ev's computer terminal.
"My, my," he said, flipping through a notebook on the desk. "Here are all his access codes for his files in memory. Dear Ev believes in security."
They began going through the drawers. There weren't many in the apartment, so it wasn't long before Rafe came across Ev's financial records. He shook his head and whistled as he paged through them.
"Rent, utilities, and food… rent, utilities, and food… that's all he uses his money for. The rest is all in CDs and zero-coupon bonds in IRAs and Keoghs. He's loaded."
Lisl couldn't repress a smile of satisfaction.
"There. I told you. He's a Prime. He'll be able to retire in another ten years."
"We're missing something," Rafe said.
"Like what?" She was getting annoyed now. "What could we be missing? There are no drugs or alcohol here, not so much as a bottle of sherry, no gay magazines, no child porn, no notes from a blackmailer. Give it up, Rafe. The man's clean. And he's a Prime."
"We still don't know where he is tonight, or every other Wednesday night for that matter. Once we know that, I'll rest my case… or bow to yours."
"How are we supposed to find that out?"
"Simple. Next Wednesday night we'll follow him."
Games… Rafe loved games. But at least following Ev wasn't illegal—not like snooping through his apartment.
"All right. We'll do that. But let's get out of here. Back to my place." A fiery desire was growing within her. "I know something we can do that's a lot more fun. And legal too."
They made sure everything was just as they had found it, then they hurried back to Rafe's car. Lisl took the lead on the way out.
Bill edged his old Impala out of the parking lot and into the flow along Conway Street. Traffic was light and he was in no hurry. He'd just seen Who Framed Roger Rabbit? for the third time and he was in a great mood. Each time he found something new to marvel at. He'd tried watching it at home once on a rented cassette but it wasn't the same. When he'd read that The Strand was running a big-screen revival, he'd jumped at the chance for another look.
As he pulled to a stop at a light, he noticed a familiar-looking sports car to his right on the side street, waiting to make a left turn. A Maserati. In the bright, diffused peach glow of the mercury vapor lamps that lined Conway, Bill recognized Rafe Losmara at the wheel, speaking animatedly to someone next to him. Once again Bill was struck by the feeling that they'd met before. Something tantalizingly familiar about his face.
He wondered who Rafe was with. He almost hoped it wasn't Lisl. He didn't want to see her hurt but he was convinced that Rafe was no good for her, that his twisted values were behind the appalling deterioration in Lisl's character.
Maybe Rafe was out with somebody else tonight. If so, perhaps Bill could find a way to use that as a wedge between Lisl and him. All the standard objections rolled through his mind—It's none of your business, she's a big girl, a grown woman, you're not her father, not even her uncle, and even if you were, she has a right to choose her lovers and her values—and he let them roll right out again. All valid, but his feelings for Lisl overruled them. Lisl was heading for a fall—Bill knew it as sure as he knew his real name—and he wanted to catch her before she did. Because she might not come back from this crash. And if Bill couldn't save the one friend he had left in the world, he might not come back, either.