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Yeah, Riker has the same idea. There was an edge to her voice, more impatience than anger. He thinks he s my coach.
Here, Charles would have liked to have said something in Riker s defense, for he liked the man very much, but there were perils to giving even the
appearance of choosing any side but hers. In all their conversations, he seemed always to be seeking safe ground with her. Why don t you come to
the game with me? Rabbi Kaplan speaks highly of you as a born card shark.
I can t. I was barred from the game when I was thirteen.
A key was turning in the lock, and as the door opened, the hose of a vacuum cleaner preceded the small dark head of Mrs Ortega.
This precluded Charles asking any personal questions like What in God s name did you do to those people to get barred from the poker game?
Mrs Ortega stopped suddenly, eyeing the cat, perhaps with a view to skinning it and making a purse of the pelt. In her oft-expressed view as a
professional cleaning woman, the only good fur shedder was a dead one. The cat rubbed up against Mallory s jeans, and now that Mrs Ortega
associated the cat with Mallory, she looked at the younger woman with surprise and something less than her former respect for a fellow believer
from the Church of Immaculate Housekeeping.
Mallory handed the woman a twenty dollar bill, with the silent understanding that she knew the cat fur would make extra work. Mrs Ortega pocketed
the bill and cast a kinder eye on the cat.
The buzzer went off, loud and irritating. Mallory put up her hand to stop Charles on his way to the door.
Okay, who is it?
Riker, he said, without the usual split second of hesitation.
He opened the door, and there stood Riker in all his slovenly glory. Mallory s jaw jutted out. Charles could see she wasn t buying this. No way could
he have known who was on the other side of the door. She too could recognize the polite light buzzer style of Henrietta Ramsharan of the third floor,
and the sharp raps of the musician on the first floor. But Riker had no style in any sense of that word, not in any aspect of his life.
Hi, Charles, said Riker. He nodded to Mallory, and made an exaggerated bow to Mrs Ortega, who screwed up her face and walked into the next
room muttering something which might have been damn cops .
You called Charles to tell him you were coming and when, said Mallory to Riker. Then she looked at Charles for confirmation, not believing for a
moment that he could ve known by any other means.
Charles smiled and shook his head. There were limits to what he could discern from knocks, but in truth, Riker had never called him; he had seen
the sergeant s arrival from the window. And now he had his first breakthrough in the art of poker as he decided not to enlighten her. His mind was
racing on to new hopes of being the big winner of tomorrow s game as Riker was settling into the deep padding of the couch.
Riker pulled a crumple of papers from the inside pocket of his overcoat and spread them out on his lap in an attempt to smooth out the damage.
The first page was a map of the park with yellow lines drawn in two areas. He looked up at Mallory, who was still glaring at Charles.
Heller pinpointed the exact site where Amanda fell. The guy s a genius. He took soil samples down to the Department of Agriculture. The dirt in the
wound was full of microscopic critters that won t live in the shadow areas of the wooded patch where we found Amanda. Riker dangled a cigarette
from his lip and fished his pockets for a match. Heller says he s gonna write a monograph and give you half the credit, Mallory. So, you ready to
take a look at the crime scene now?
What for? She picked up the sheet with the yellow markings. I can read a map.
Hey, Mallory, I m just along for the ride, okay? But most of us like to swing by the crime scene, maybe take a look at the place where the victim
died.
Waste of time. I read the report. Forensic s been over the ground and probably ten or twelve cops with big feet. What am I gonna see?
You never know, kid. A match sparked in his hand; the flame died in a cloud of exhaled smoke.
Don t call me kid.
Mrs Ortega returned to the front room and was plugging in the vacuum cleaner. Riker smiled at the woman.
You know, Mrs Ortega, we got a suspect here you d really appreciate. All we know about the bastard is that he lives in a luxury condo, and he can
clean an apartment like a pro.
Then he wasn t born no rich kid.
Huh?
Rich kids aren t raised right. You can tell if they earn their money or get it the easy way. Mallory knows from clean. She turned to Charles. Now
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