The woman who answered the door had blonde hair, a button nose dusted with freckles, eyes the color of cobalt. She was wearing blue and a white T-shirt with a tiny red devil's discreet logo over the left breast. Carella fi he'd come to the right place.
"Yes?" she said.
"I'm looking for Mr. Lutherson," he said, and ,wed her his shield and his I.D. card.
"You're not the one we spoke to," she said.
"No, I'm not," Carella admitted. "May I come in, .,ase? It's a little wet out here.”
"Oh, yes," she said, "excuse me, come in, come in, please.”
She stepped back and away from him. She was barefoot, he noticed. They were standing in what was a small oval entrance foyer fashioned of stone and lined with niches similar to the ones at St. Catherine's, except that these were devoid of statues.
"Didn't Andrew Hobbs come talk to you?" she asked at once.
"Not to me personally," Carella said. "But, yes, he did speak to us.
"Then you know he's the one who...”
"Yes, painted the star.”
"The pentagram, yes.”
"Yes.”
“Let me tell Sky you're here," she said. "What was your name again?”
"Carella. Detective Carell.”
I'll tell him," she said, and turned and went padding off into the gloom.
He waited in the foyer. Outside a water spout splashed noisily. He wondered what they did here.
He wondered if they were breaking any laws here.
You read stories about all these sensational ritual murders, people killing people for the Devil, you began to think the whole worm was wt Satan. Slitting the throats of little babes, their blood into sacrificial basins. Most of these sacrificed chickens or goats, hardly any of them foolish enough or reckless enough to human sacrifice. In this city, there were no such against sacrificing animals. Who was to that tossing a lobster into a pot of boiling wasn't sacrifice of a sort?
There were, however, against inhumane methods of slaughtering, you were in a mood to bust a cult that animal sacrifice, you could always nail them bullshit violation. He was not here to bust a cult, was here to learn a bit more about... "Mr. Carella?”
He turned.
A tall blond man had materialized in the fo stepping from the darkness beyond one of the portals. Like the woman who'd answered the he too was wearing jeans and the white T-shirt the devil's-head logo. He, too, was barefoot. body of a weight lifter, lean and clean, Carella willing to bet next month's salary that this cat done time. A bend in the otherwise perfect where it had once been broken. A Mick mouth. Pearly white teeth.
Eyes as blue as woman's had been, were they brother and sister?
"I'm Schuyler Lutherson," he said, smiling "welcome to The Church of the Bornless One.”
He extended his hand. Carella took it, and shook hands briefly.
Lutherson's grip was finn and dry. Carella had read someplace that a firm, dry grip ¢as a sign of character. As opposed to a limp, wet ne, he guessed. He was willing to bet another month's salary that a great many murderers in this world had firm, dry grips.
"Come on inside," Lutherson said, and led him through an arched portal opposite the one through which he'd entered, and down a stone corridor, more empty niches in the walls, and then opened a heavy oaken door that led into a wood-paneled room that had once been a library, but which was now lined only with empty shelves. A thrift-shop desk was in the center of the room. There was a chair behind it and two chairs in front of it.
A standing floor lamp with a cream-colored shade was in one corner of the room. Lutherson sat behind the desk. Carella sat opposite him.
"So," Lutherson said. "I hope you're making progress with your case.”
Hands tented, fingers and thumbs gently touching. Looking at Carella over his hands. Smiling pleasantly.
"Not very much," Carella said.
"I'm sorry to hear that. I thought when we offered our cooperation, this would at least, see, clear up any doubts along those lines. That anyone here at Bornless might be involved, see. In the murder of the priest.”
"Uh-huh," Carella said.
"Which is why we asked him to go to the Hobbs. The minute we found out he was who'd defaced that gate.”
"As a matter of fact, he's the reason I' today.”
"Oh?”
Blue eyes opening wide.
"Yes. We've been trying to locate his mo we can't find a telephone listing for her, and "Why don't you ask Hobbs?”
"We did. He doesn't know.”
"He doesn't know his own mother's telephone number?”
"They don't get along. She moved six ago, and neither of them has made any contact each other since.”
"Well, I wish I could help you, but...”
"Did Hobbs ever mention her to you?”
"No. In fact, the first time I ever spoke to was last Saturday night.”
"I thought he was a regular member of congregation. According to Jeremy Sachs...”
"Yes, I know Jer...”
"... he introduced Hobbs to your church in sometime.”
"I do know Jeremy, and that may be true. people come and go, see, it's a transient group. A of people are attracted by the novelty of it, and they realize that this is a serious religion here, we're serious worshippers here, and they drop "But you'd never talked to Hobbs before last Saturday.”
"Correct.”
"You'd seen him here, though, hadn't you?”
"Not that I can recall. But I'm sure if Jeremy says lae's been coming here since March, then I have no reason to doubt his word. It's just that I wasn't familiar with him personally.”
"And so you wouldn't have any information about his mother.”
"No.”
"Abigail Hobbs.”
"No. I'm sorry.”
"You wouldn't have met her...”
"How would I have met her?”
"Well, she could have come here in an attempt to...”
"No, I've never met anyone named Abigail Hobbs.”
"I guess you'd remember if she came here.”
"Yes, I'm sure I'd remember.”
"Before going to see Father Michael. To ask you to talk to her son, convince him to leave the church, whatever. You don't remember anything like that, is that right?”
"Nothing like that, no. I can say very definitely that I don't know anyone named Abigail Hobbs.”
"Well, thank you, Mr. Lutherson," Carella said, and sighed. "I appreciate your time.”
"Not at all. Feel free to stop in whenever you like," Lutherson said, and rose from behind and extended his hand again.
The men shook hands. Finn and dry, the the Devil's disciple.
I'll show you out," Lutherson said, Carella thought happened only in movies.
She'd told him she was going to a cattle-call that afternoon and that he could meet her Alice Weiss Theater downtown at about o'clock, by which time she hoped she'd be Hawes waited under the theater marquee watching the falling rain, watching the rushing past on their way to the subways and He wanted to be going home, too. Instead, he here waiting for Krissie Lund.
Right after their meeting in the lieutenant's Carella had told him that Alexis O'Donnell a blonde woman with Father Michael on Sunday. Whether or not the blonde had been was yet another matter; there were a great blondes in this world, including Alexis herself. bothered Hawes that she might have been. whoever the blonde was, Father Michael accused her of blackmail. And blackmail, known as extortion, was defined in Section 850! the state's Penal Law as "the obtaining of from another induced by a wrongful use of force fear." And listed under the threats that constituted extortion was: To expose any secret affecting him.