"You want my help?"
"Sure, why not? The police can always use a little outside assistance. Given your proximity to things, you're a good candidate to help now." Luther stared right at him while telling the lie. "I can trust you, right?"
"Yeah, I mean, sure. I'm glad to help however I can." Shifting in nervous ebullience, he stirred the air, sending the odor of unwashed skin to Luther's nose. "You want something to drink, maybe?"
After a discreet cough, Luther nodded. "If you make it strong, coffee would be good."
Mort's thin face lifted. "Cool. Let's go in the kitchen."
Rushing ahead, he emptied dirty clothes off a chair and piled them in the corner, then began clearing the tabletop of comic books and unpaid bills. Luther sat down and, trying to be subtle, asked, "You said Gaby keeps to herself, but you don't get much company here either, do you?"
"Nah, but it's okay. When I have the store open, I stay plenty busy."
Luther pictured the ramshackle store that abutted the two-family structure. Enough filth marred the windows to impede a view beyond the bent, stained, and faded signs crookedly hung. Handwritten messages pronounced the sale of comic books and other fan magazines. "You own the connecting building, too?"
"Yeah. I inherited both this place and the comic book store from my mom. But I didn't feel like opening the store today."
"Under the weather?" When Mort glanced at him in edgy suspicion, Luther said, "I noticed you had some allergy problems or something with your eyes. It hits a lot of people this time of year."
"Yeah." He turned away to fix the coffee. "So you wanted to ask me some stuff about the area?"
Absently, Luther picked up one of the comics on the top of the pile. He thumbed the edges, making the pages flip. "You heard there was a murder?"
"There always is." After he finished the coffee preparations, Mort turned to face Luther. "It's sad, but around here, we're used to it."
Very true. "Lots of hookers getting killed, the occasional robbery gone wrong."
Mort nodded.
"This one was different, Mort. A man was mutilated."
Mort said nothing, but his Adam's apple bobbed in his scrawny throat.
"He was so hacked up, body bits were everywhere."
"Hacked up, huh?" He rubbed the back of his neck. "I heard some stuff… people around here talk. I guess it was pretty bad?"
"He was nearly decapitated. Almost every bone broken. Ribs sawed through. His guts spilled out." Luther watched Mort. "Pretty macabre stuff."
Both hands covered Mort's mouth. "That's…"
"Disturbing. I know. And then you had that mutilated critter hung in your foyer." Luther tossed the comic aside and picked up another. "I wonder how someone got in there to do that, without you hearing or seeing anything."
"I was in bed a lot that day, and Gaby wasn't here."
"Where was she?"
"I already told you I don't know." He paced away. "I don't know how I didn't hear it."
Probably because he'd been crying too hard, the poor schmuck.
Fear overtook Mort's expression. "You think the two things are related?"
"In this neighborhood, who can say?" Luther lifted his shoulders. "I do know that Gaby shouldn't be out alone at night—like she was a few nights ago." He waited a second or two, "She was alone, wasn't she, Mort?"
"I don't know." He almost wailed that. "Gaby doesn't tell me anything. I wasn't lying about that. She's real private."
"She's been here three years. You must know something about her."
The second the coffee machine quieted, Mort took out the carafe and filled two mugs. As a type of warning, he said, "I know she keeps to herself and doesn't like questions."
"How does she support herself?" When Mort again glared at him in suspicion, Luther tapped the comic book against the tabletop. "I'm just asking because I'm worried about her. It doesn't seem she works during the day, but if she has a night job somewhere, she could be at risk. Until we catch the lunatic who committed the murder, no woman should be out alone at night."
Mort grunted. "Yeah, well, you try telling Gaby that." He held out a mug of coffee, and Luther started to toss the comic away.
That's when he noticed the cover.
Servant slashed across the front in a scratchy font above the depiction of a tall woman, her hair blowing back in the wind, her eyes narrowed in what appeared to be pain and resolution.
He accepted the coffee in one hand and lifted the graphic novel with the other. "You read this?"
"Are you kidding? It's the best. I've collected them all. They're my most popular item. They—"
To Luther's surprise, Mort suddenly clammed up. "What?"
He shook his head. "Nothing. I just… I realized how you might look at it, me reading graphic novels."
The lie showed all over poor Mort's face. For some reason, he didn't want to talk about the story. With more to ponder, Luther again skimmed the cover.
Something about that cover depiction drew him. The claws of curiosity dug in, and Luther couldn't let it go. "Mind if I borrow this?"
"Why?"
"I've heard good things about it."
Suspicion showed again. "Yeah? From who?"
Thanks to Gary, he didn't have to lie. "There's a college kid who hangs out at the station, getting in some credit time. He cleans up, runs errands, hands out the mail… that sort of thing. He mentioned the novel to me just this morning. Raved about it, actually."
Staring down at the floor, Mort muttered, "He's probably getting anxious for the next installment. I know I am."
"So can I borrow it?"
Drawn back to himself, Mort looked at Luther. "Uh, sure. But… you'll bring it back, right? I mean, they become collector's items. I wouldn't want anything to happen to it."
"I'll keep it safe. Soon as I'm done, I'll return it to you."
"Thanks. Take your time. I've already read it, but a new one should be out soon, so I was just rereading it until then."
It occurred to Luther that he could accomplish a lot by becoming Morty's friend. "When do you expect Gaby back?"
"I don't. That is, she comes and goes on her own. Most of the time I don't even hear her. I swear, she's like a ghost."
Did Gaby sneak out, or was stealth a natural part of her personality? "Sounds like you have plenty of time to visit."
"Sure."
Luther glanced at his watch. "Let's order a pizza. My treat. It'll give us a chance to get better acquainted, and you can tell me more about the people around here."
Specifically, he could tell him more about Gaby.
Blending into a hospital couldn't have been easier. Watching the woman covertly proved simpler still. Curiosity was sharp, but then, to a scientific mind that never rested, this new phenomenon held almost as much interest as the cancer growth.
Thinking of the cancer growth wrought both satisfaction and annoyance.
Too many medical critics want to proclaim that the procedures violate a cardinal rule of surgery by leaving dead tissue in the body. Of course that can—and usually does—lead to sepsis. But on a dying body, what difference did a massive infection make? Why can't the skeptics grasp the underlying significance in what we can learn, what advancements can be made in the field of cancer research?
Idiots.
But not this one, not the spiritual girl. She saw too much, and understood everything. She had a similar intelligence.
sharp and unwavering, and a way of dealing with things that proved almost as satisfying as a major medical breakthrough.
Stepping into a patient's room gave all the cover needed. The girl went on past, her long ragged jeans dragging the hospital floor, her lank hair in her face, her eyes almost unseeing. She'd turned her thoughts inward, and for the moment, forgotten her purpose.
Interesting.
So not only lightning distracted her, but an inflated empathy for the ailing took her off course, too? Good to know.