She felt herself flushing.

Why the hell did he ask that?

She looked quickly around the room to see that her own blinds were tightly drawn.

"As opposed to a woman… a fully clothed woman," Wohl went on.

"What did you do, Inspector, just see something like that?" Amy asked, sarcastically.

"As a matter of fact, yes," he said, unabashed. "Quite inadvertently."

"I'm sure," Amy said. "But it had no effect on you, right, but you're wondering if it would on… a mentally ill man?"

"No," he said. "Actually, it had quite an effect on me. It was rather embarrassing."

Most men would deny that, Amy thought. How interesting.

"The nude female, at least a reasonably attractive one," Amy said seriously, and then saw her reflection and almost giggled as she thought,like me for example, "has a certain effect on the male. The normal male. A mentally ill male? Let me think." She did, and then went on. "Probably, given a man with mental problems, it would have a more profound effect. I'm not sure what that would be. If he hates women, it might trigger disgust. He might become highly aroused. The disgust might trigger anger, a sense that he thereafter had the right to punish. Innocent nudity, changing clothes, having a bath, might lead him to thinking about the helplessness of the woman."

He grunted.

"Is this of any help to you?"

"Mary Elizabeth Flannery was wearing only her underpants when this scumbag-sorry-when this guy showed up."

"I saw that in the file," Amy said.

"Maybe he drives around looking through windows," Wohl thought aloud, "and when he finds a naked, or partially naked, woman, that turns him on."

"That might have been the trigger early on," Amy said. "I can't really say. But now that I'm almost certain this man is out of control, I don't really know what effect, if any, that would have."

"Ummm," Peter Wohl said, thoughtfully.

"If that's all, Inspector, it's very late."

"Actually," Peter Wohl blurted, "I had something else in mind."

It had, in fact, occurred to him two seconds before.

"Yes?" Amy said, impatiently.

"I really enjoyed our time together," Wohl plunged on, "and I hoped that you might have dinner with me sometime. On a nonprofessional basis."

"Oh, I see," she heard herself saying. "We could run through a long line of gangster-owned restaurants where fellow men of honor get free meals, is that it?"

There was a long pause, long enough for Amy to wonderwhat's wrong with me? Why did I say that?

"I beg your pardon, Doctor. I won't trouble you again."

Oh, God, he's going to hang up!

"Peter-"

There was no reply for a long moment, and then he said, "I'm here."

"I don't know why I said that. I'm sorry."

He didn't reply.

"I would love to have dinner with you," Amy heard herself blurting. " Call me. Tomorrow. I'm glad you called."

"So'm I," Peter Wohl said, happily. "Good night, Amy."

The line went dead.

She looked at herself in the mirror again.

Oh, God, she thought. It was Freudian. Sex is what that was all about!

SIXTEEN

At five minutes to eight, the nineteen police officers assigned to the day shift of the Fourteenth Police District gathered in the Roll Call Room of the district building at Germantown and Haines Streets, and went through the roll call ritual, under the eyes of Captain Charles D. Emerson, the Fourteenth District Commander, a heavyset, gray-haired man of fifty.

The officers formed in ranks, and went through the ritual, obviously based on similar rituals in the armed forces, of inspection in ranks. Trailed by the Sergeant, Captain Emerson marched through the three ranks of men, stopping in front of each to examine his appearance, the length of his hair, whether or not he was closely shaved, and the cleanliness of his weapon, which each officer held up in front of him, with the cylinder open. Several times, perhaps six, Captain Emerson had something to say to an officer: a suggestion that he needed a new shirt, or a shoe shine, or that he was getting a little too fat.

When the Inspection in Ranks was completed, the Sergeant stood before the men and read aloud from several items on a clipboard.

Some of the items he read were purely administrative, and local in nature, dealing with, for example, vacation schedules; and some had come over the police teletype from the Roundhouse with orders that they be read at roll calls. They dealt with such things as the death and funeral arrangements for two retired and one active police officers.

There were some items of a local nature, in particular the report of another burglary of the residence of a Miss Martha Peebles of 606 Glengarry Lane in Chestnut Hill, coupled with instructions that Radio Patrol cars and Emergency Patrol wagons on all shifts were to make a special effort to ride by the Peebles residence as often as possible.

"And we are still looking for Miss Elizabeth Woodham," the Sergeant concluded. "That's at the top of the list. You all have her description, and what description we have of the probable doer and his van. We have to get the lady back. Report anything you come across."

The day shift of the Fourteenth District was then called to attention, and dismissed, and left the Roll Call Room to get in their cars and go on duty.

Captain Charles D. Emerson walked over to Staff Inspector Peter Wohl, who had entered the room just as the roll call started.

"How are you, Peter?" he said, putting out his hand. "Or is this an occasion when I should call you Inspector?"

Staff Inspector Wohl had no authority whatever over the Fourteenth Police District, and both of them knew it. But hewas a Staff Inspector, and hewas the new commander of the new Special Operations Division, and no one, including Captain Emerson, had any idea what kind of clout went with the title.

"I hope I didn't get in the way, Charley," Wohl said, shaking Emerson's hand.

"Don't be silly. Distinguished visitors are always welcome at my roll calls."

Wohl chuckled. He knew the roll call ritual had been a bit more formal than usual, because of his presence.

"Bullshit, Charley," Wohl said, smiling at him.

"What can I do for you, Peter?" Emerson smiled back.

"You want the truth?"

"When all else fails, sometimes that helps."

"I'm covering my ass, Charley. This Peebles woman has friends in high places."

"So Commissioner Czernick has led me to believe," Emerson said, dryly. "He's been on the phone to me, too."

"So now both of us can tell him, if he asks, and I think he will, that you and I are coordinating our resources to bring Miss Peebles's burglar to the bar of justice."

Emerson chuckled.

"That's all, Peter?"

"I have the Woodham job. The Northwest rapist. Did you hear?"

"Czernick must like you."

"Czernick, hell. Carlucci."

"Ouch."

"I was hoping… maybe something turned up here?"

"I can't think of a thing, Peter. But come on in the office, and we' ll call in the watch commander and whoever and kick it around over a cup of coffee."

"Thanks, but no thanks. I've got another roll call to make. Special Operations' first roll call. But call me, or better Jason Washington or Tony Harris-use the Highway Commander's number to get them-if you think of anything, will you?"

"They're working for you?" Emerson asked, surprised.

"Somewhat reluctantly."

"You must have some clout to get them transferred to you."

"I think the word is 'rope,' Charley. As in 'he now has enough rope to hang himself.' "

Captain Emerson's eyebrows rose thoughtfully. He did not offer even apro forma disagreement.

"Say hello to your dad for me when you see him, will you, Peter?" he said.