"Don't you read the papers?"
"We're from out of town," Remo said.
The man looked past Remo at Chiun and then confided, "I would have guessed that about him."
"You're very observant."
"That's what everyone tells me."
"You probably know more about what happened here than I could have found out by reading the papers anyway."
"You're right."
"So what happened?"
"The kid, Billy, he went crazy and killed them."
"Who?"
"His parents. He beat them to death with a tire iron while they were asleep."
"That's awful."
"It sure is, but nobody around here was really surprised about it."
"Why not?"
The man shrugged and said, "He was just that kind of kid, you know? See that car in the driveway?"
"Expensive machine," Remo said.
"That was the kid's. He drove it all the time, and he wasn't even old enough to drive."
"Is that right?"
"On top of it all, he had friends who did the same thing, you know. Drove expensive cars even though they weren't old enough to have licenses. And they were over all the time."
"I see. How long did the Martins live here?"
"Actually, they only moved in a couple of months ago. I think the father— Allan, his name was— got a raise or something from the company he worked for."
"What company was that?"
"An automobile company, what else? I think it was National Motors. Yeah, that's it."
"He must have gotten a large raise."
The neighbor made a face. "Nah, they were flashing more money than he could have gotten just from a raise."
"You noticed that, did you?"
"How could I help it, what with that car and all? Maybe they came into an inheritance or something."
"I guess that's possible."
"Especially since they paid cash for the house."
"That is a lot of money to flash," Remo agreed, wondering if there was anything this man didn't know. Maybe he'd ask him who killed the kid.
"So you don't really know where all the money came from, then?" he asked.
"Hey, I'm not nosy."
"I can see that," Remo said. "Just observant."
"Right, that's what everybody says."
That's because they're too polite to say "nosy," Remo thought.
"So what happened to the son after he murdered his parents?" Remo asked.
"That's the funny part," the neighbor said, and Remo could feel Chiun stiffen behind him.
"Funny?" Remo said.
"Yeah. You see, the police arrested him, and a judge let him out on bail. Less than an hour later, Billy Martin was dead. Somebody killed him."'
"Really? That must have been a shock."
"Especially to him," the man said, and then laughed at his own joke. Remo just hoped that Chiun would be able to keep himself under control.
"So now they're all dead," Remo said.
"Looks that way."
"Daaa-vid!" a woman's voice called from inside the neighbor's house.
"Oops, there's the Mrs.," David said. "I've got to go in and tighten a faucet or something. Listen, I didn't ask you— why were you looking for the Martins?"
"Oh," Remo said, "I was just going to try and sell them a set of encyclopedias."
"Oh, yeah?"
"I don't suppose you'd want to buy—"
"Oh, I couldn't. My Mrs. would kill me. Well, better luck with someone else."
"Thanks."
When the neighbor went back into his house, Remo could feel Chiun take a deep breath behind him.
"I do not know how I can stand to be among you people," Chiun said. "There is no sensitivity, no warmth, no pity for a child cut down in the prime of life. There is—"
"—Someone in the house," Remo said, cutting Chiun off.
"What?"
Pointing, Remo said, "There's someone in the Martin house, and the house is supposed to be vacant. I'm going to take a look."
"Now we have to break into the home of a dead child," Chiun said despairingly.
"Somebody already beat us to it." Remo said.
"For once, you are right." The old Korean started for the house. Remo hurried after him.
"Let's just hope no one calls the cops," Remo said as they reached the front door. "You want me to break it down?"
Chiun made a rude nosie, reached forward, and effortlessly forced the door open with the touch of one hand. "Only a pale piece of pig's ear would break down the door of a dead child's home," he said in disgust.
"When I said 'break,' I didn't mean 'break'…." Remo started to explain, but then decided to let it go. "Let's see who's inside."
The front door opened right into the living room, which was empty. There were a couple more rooms on the first level— kitchen, family room or den— and they were empty too.
"Upstairs," Chiun said.
"Good guess."
"I heard—"
"I know, I heard it too," Remo assured his mentor. Someone was walking around on the second floor, walking without stealth, because whoever it was thought the house was empty. The rooms on the first floor were intact, so if the intruder was searching, he was doing a decent job of it.
"Let's go up and see who it is," Remo said, starting for the stairs.
"I will wait here," Chiun said.
Remo started up the steps without arguing. Chiun obviously had something on his mind, and Remo decided to leave him alone with it.
Upstairs, he went through the first bedroom, then found the intruder in the bathroom, gong through the medicine cabinet.
The man was tall, with curly brown hair and very pale skin, as if he had been ill or had never been introduced formally to the sun.
"Do you prefer aspirin or Tylenol?" Remo asked.
The man started violently, knocking a couple of plastic vials into the sink as he turned to look at Remo. His eyes immediately caught Remo's attention. They were dark, deep set, and very intense, with a lot of white showing. There was no way to tell if that was their normal state, or merely a manifestation of the man's surprise.
"Who are you?" the man demanded. His voice was deep and very authoritative, as if he were used to being obeyed without question.
"I was about to ask you the same question," Remo replied.
"You have no right to be here."
"And you do, I suppose."
"I have every right," the man said. He turned, retrieved the vials from the sink, replaced them in the medicine cabinet, and slid the door closed.
"How do you figure that?"
"The people who lived here were members of my parish while they were alive."
"Your parish?"
"Yes. My name is Lorenzo Moorcock. I am the minister of the Church of Modern-day Beliefs."
"And what are you doing here if you know that the people who lived here are dead?"
"I came to cleanse the house."
"Are things so bad that you've got to take in house cleaning on the side?"
"Levity is for fools."
"And jail is for burglars, bozo," Remo said, grabbing Moorcock by the collar. "So 'fess up. What are you doing here?"
"In order for the souls of these dear departed members of my parish to find peace, their home must be cleansed of evil spirits," the minister said hurriedly, gasping for air. "Especially considering the way they died."
"So you were cleansing the medicine chest and the toilet?" Remo asked, releasing the man. "Seems to me a can of Ajax would do the job just as well, and you could leave God out of it. I'm sure he has a pretty full schedule… but then you'd know more about that than I would."
Moorcock fixed Remo with a piercing stare— his eyes really were like that all the time— and said, "We do not speak of God in my church." He walked past Remo out of the bathroom into the bedroom.
"You don't talk about God?"
"We are too modern for that," the minister said haughtily.
"That's interesting."
"If you are truly interested, you may come to my church and listen to me preach," Moorcock said. "If you merely intend to scoff, you are welcome nonetheless."