Yes, Alma was quite insane. And someone should send her away, but he thought that was unlikely. Every notch cut into her wrists represented a lost opportunity to get her the help she needed. He could see her future now. One day she would get it right, and she would die alone. What a friend she had in Jane.

“What do you remember about the meeting?”

“Cass came in as we were talking about mending the tent for the next road show. She was real angry. Her office had been robbed. I know the sheriff was out of town, but I don’t know what she expected us to do about it. And she was waving that letter. Now she said that it was stolen, but there it was in her hand.”

“Could it have been a copy?”

“It could have been. Now that would make more sense, wouldn’t it?”

“Do you know what was in the letter?”

“Yes, of course I do. She wanted to take me away. I told you that.”

“All right – the meeting. Did that have anything to do with the stoning?”

“No, that was God’s work. The stones came out of the sky like rain and one fell into my hand. Not hard, mind you, but it just settled there in my hand. I took it home with me, and I keep it under my bed. It was so quiet between the fall of one stone and another.”

Alma’s voice was shrill now, and her eyes were very bright. “Cass didn’t scream or anything. That was part of the miracle. You wouldn’t think a woman could die in silence while her body was being broken that way. It was a test. But she understood what was happening to her.”

Alma clutched his arm with one hand and raked the other through her hair. “And the rocks only rained on Cass. It was a miracle the way she died.” Tears were streaming down her face and her voice was louder, almost shouting. “And now she’s back, going about His work. She’s come for me. I was afraid once, but no more. It’s my time of atonement for all my sins.” She looked to the ceiling, and screamed. “I’m so sorry! I have offended Thee!”

“What have you done?” Jane pushed the door, open with one meaty elbow. Her hands were filled with a pitcher and a glass. “She’s not supposed to be upset. Maybe you’d better leave, Mr. Butler.” Behind Jane, a nurse’s voice seconded this opinion. When Charles stepped into the hallway, the door was slammed behind him.

Riker was leaning against a gurney, an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth. “Have a nice visit, Charles? Sounded like a prayer meeting. Is Alma worried about going to hell for what she did?”

“I’m not sure she did anything. Alma says she did have a rock in her hand, but she took it home with her. She’s not lucid, but I believe that much.”

“Did the rock just appear in her hand?”

“How did you know that? She thinks it fell from the sky.”

“The deputy had a similar story, and he wasn’t the least bit crazy.

“I don’t think Alma will stand up to any more questions, if you’re – ”

“I’m not here for that. I think you should wait till the sheriff leaves before you pick up the brat.”

“Pardon?”

“Cut the crap, Charles. I just gave Mallory the pills from the pharmacy. She was down in the basement stealing files. Do you know what those pills are for?”

“For Augusta.”

“That’s what Mallory told you?” Riker gave him a pity smile. “She’s got a gunshot wound in her shoulder, Charles. That’s what the pills are for. I have to get her out of here before she takes another bullet, and I need your help. I’ll tell the sheriff you’re giving me a lift back to town. We can load her into your car and just keep driving.”

A bullet wound? Charles shook his head in disbelief. It couldn’t be. How could she -

“Charles, you know she killed Babe Laurie.”

“No I don’t, and neither do you.”

“Well, let’s see what I got to work with here,” said Riker. “I got one dead mother killed by a mob. And that wacko religious cult fits nice with the mob concept, doesn’t it? According to the feds, Babe Laurie led that cult. And this bastard gets his ass murdered within an hour of Mallory hitting town. You wanna play connect-the-dots?”

“That’s enough, Riker.”

“Or maybe a fast round of blindman’s buff? I’ll wear the blindfold first, okay? I’ll pretend I can’t see her killing a man just because he stoned her mother to death.”

“Mallory wouldn’t use a rock.”

“Why not? That’s the way her mother died. You gotta admit the kid has an interesting sense of justice.”

“Put a lid on it, Riker.”

“The sheriff still has good memories of a tiny little girl who couldn’t even lift a gun. If she stays much longer, it’ll be too late – he’ll have her jacket from NYPD, maybe psych files too. Do you want that man to find out what Mallory’s really made of?”

“So you want to lure Mallory into the car, and – ”

“Yeah, I owe it to Lou Markowitz. He’d do the same if he was alive. Hell, the old man would toss her in the trunk and drive straight through till morning. I just want to keep his kid alive and out of prison. Help me, Charles. You want me to beg? Okay, I’m begging. Lou would be down on one knee if he was here.”

Of course Riker couldn’t do it without a trusted friend to betray her to lead her into the car, where Riker would be waiting.

“No.” Charles looked down the hall as Tom Jessop was walking toward them. “I think the sheriff’s ready to leave now. Goodbye, Riker.”

Riker turned to the sheriff and called out, “Two minutes.” The sheriff waved and walked off.

“Why don’t you sleep on it, Charles. We’ll talk again tomorrow. If I have to do this alone, I might have to hurt her, and I’d rather not do that.”

“I don’t believe you could hurt her. And I know you couldn’t force her to go with you, not by yourself. Did you ever try to take Mallory anywhere?”

“Yeah, I did,” said Riker. “Once I took her to the Bronx Zoo. She was eleven. The animals in the monkey house didn’t wanna play with her. I think the kid made them nervous – they wouldn’t come anywhere near the bars. She didn’t take rejection very well in those days. So the kid points to the monkeys, and she looks up at me and says, ‘Shoot ’em.‘ ”

“You’re making that up.”

“But you’re not sure, are you?”

CHAPTER 21

“I like this one best,” said Malcolm Laurie, in admiration of the statue wielding a sword over his head.

Sergeant Riker was startled. He had not expected company from that direction, not in this predawn hour.

“Good morning,” said Malcolm, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to find a New York City detective crouching in the grass behind a tomb. “You left the bar too early. I was just about to break out the good stuff.” In his hand was a flat silver bottle.

Riker stood up and accepted the hip flask, breaking his time-honored rule of no hard liquor before breakfast. After one sip of whiskey, he pronounced it very good stuff indeed. Averting his eyes from the angel and her stone sword, Riker’s gaze wandered over the surrounding faces of more passive, unarmed sculpture. “Never saw so many angels in one place. It’s a damn convention.”

“There are sixteen of them. Seventeen, if you count Nancy Trebec.” Malcolm walked over to the marble woman standing off to one side of the cemetery, all but lost in the trees. He pulled out a gold cigarette lighter and flashed the flame in her face.

What a pretty face, full of sorrow.

“No wings,” said Riker, returning the flask.

“A fallen angel doesn’t need wings. She’s not going anywhere.” Malcolm leaned one arm on the statue’s slight shoulder as he tipped back the whiskey for a long draught. “No room for a suicide in Catholic heaven.”

“Why did she kill herself?”

“You didn’t take Betty’s tour?”

Riker turned back to look at the angel with Mallory’s face and a lethal weapon. “The statue broke up the party when it started crying.”