armchair weak with emotion.When the peasant explained that this

Fri Nov 7 00:29:31 UTC 2003

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<P align=3Dcenter>during</P>
<P align=3Dcenter><font color=3D"#FFFFF6" size=3D"1">"But the closest=
 I came to a disaccharide brilliant deduction 
  like William efficacious Powell and Warner Oland and Basil =
missoula Rathbone in all those obtain old movies 
  was: dorado seven years ago in June, the Mephistopheles murders my=
steriously stopped. 
  One investigate month later, Welch turns up agleam contrite =
grime at a Fourth of July party, engaged to Lucy. 
  And no sooner does Lucy dump Welch than Mephistopheles comes out of reti=
rement 
  and makes her his next victim. I mean, I wouldn't hang anybody on that; =
but 
  it innumerable does bear checking out.</font></P>
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<P align=3Dcenter><font color=3D"#FFFFF5">"Well, she told you about h=
er marriage. 
  She told you about other bars she went to. Welch tananarive knew your =
name and address, 
  which kind of suggests conservative swine belladonna she =
psychoses did too. I mean, you can't blame ding us for--uh- jum=
ping 
  to conclusions."</font></P>
<p><font color=3D"#FFFFF5">Jimmy flinched.</font></p>
<p><font color=3D"#FFFFF5">Another shrug. "So I let her talk to me. S=
o I let 
  her think I was comin' on to her." He and Lieutenant Peyton studied=
 each 
  other. "So maybe I was. Hey, I been married--what?--twelve years? I=
 used 
  to be real big with the ladies. So I let some fine-lookin' chick make so=
me moves 
  on me, show me I still got it. Even the most happily married man's gotta=
 do 
  that or he gets stale. Right, hoe?"</font></p>
<p><font color=3D"#FFFFF5">"I guess so."</font></p>
<p><font color=3D"#FFFFF5"><br>
  They were precinct bound.</font></p>
<p><font color=3D"#FFFFF5">"What do you think of his story?" ask=
ed Jimmy.</font></p>
<p><font color=3D"#FFFFF5">"Story's fine. But did you notice Mrs. Dim=
ke's wrists?" 
  Jimmy vaguely recalled bruises.</font></p>
<p><font color=3D"#FFFFF5">"And the way she acted?"</font></p>
=0A<p><font color=3D"#FFFFF5">"She acted bored."</font></p>
<p><font color=3D"#FFFFF5">"She acted scared. She was scared to let u=
s see 
  how scared she was, so she held herself in. There's plenty she could tel=
l us, 
  but she knows what he'll do to her if she does."</font></p>
<p><font color=3D"#FFFFF5">"So it's between Welch and Dimke?"</f=
ont></p>
<p><font color=3D"#FFFFF5">"One thing's sure: it wasn't him."</f=
ont></p>
<p><font color=3D"#FFFFF5">"Him?"</font></p>
<p><font color=3D"#FFFFF5">Lieutenant Peyton grinned. "You know.&quot=
;</font></p>
<p><font color=3D"#FFFFF5"><br>
  The lieutenant flipped on his office light. "The bloodstains show s=
he was 
  killed in the bedroom. And there was no sign of a struggle, so it was ev=
idently 
  someone she trusted." He started going through the mail on his desk=
 "I 
  mean, can you see anyone letting him get that close--and in her bedroom =
yet?"</font></p>
<p><font color=3D"#FFFFF5">He glanced at one of the envelopes, started mov=
ing it 
  to the bottom, then glanced at it again.</font></p>
<p><font color=3D"#FFFFF5">His face went blank.</font></p>
<p><font color=3D"#FFFFF5">"What's wrong, Dad?"</font></p>
<p><font color=3D"#FFFFF5">The old man struggled to smile. "Now, you =
got me 
  doing it. Where's the letter opener?" He went through his top drawe=
r, then 
  the second drawers on each side, then the next, growing more frantic wit=
h each 
  drawer. "Where the hell is the damn letter opener?"</font></p>=

"Dad." He grabbed the envelope and ri=
pped off 
 an edge.
Lieutenant olson Peyton snatched it back=
, audrey clawed out the paper 
 inside, shook it open, and read it.
He offered it to his son with bonaventure a tr=
embling hand, looking 
 as if he were going to vomit.
The hand-printed distortion words flew up li=
ke fists: "Lucy 
 Welch was my return performance. Mephistopheles."
Jimmy foggily heard his father: "First goo=
d hunch 
 you had since you got promoted out of uniform; and it had to be about hi=
m."
 
 The bar was on the first level of the Renaissance Center. It was a slow =
night. 
 The bartender and all but two of the patrons were engrossed in a televis=
ed Tigers 
 game.
The Peytons sat, hunched over drinks, in the di=
m red 
 glow, remembering seven years ago. . . .
 
 Lieutenant Peyton recalled a younglusty blonde, nude on a morgue =
slab. Her face was 
 like the wholesome farm girls on the cover of his folks' American Magazi=
nes, 
 except for the lump on her head and the gash across her throat.</=
p>
An officer read from a notebook: "Her name=
 was Helen 
 Dunn. comparative Twenty-three years old. She was a barmaid." He n=
amed a bar near Wayne 
 State University. "Her boss was emptying out some trash, right afte=
r opening 
 up, when he found her body behind some cans." 
"Had there been any trouble recently?&quot=
;
"Nothing in particular; but you know how b=
armaids 
 are."
"Yeah." He replaced the sheet, wonder=
ing how 
 to say what he had to say without revealing too much. He decided it was =
impossible. 
 "I want this to have top priority. I want to know who works there, =
who 
 drinks there--everything."
"Something special about this, sir?"<=
/font>
"Maybe I just don't like to see twenty-thr=
ee-year-old 
 girls die."
He was not fooling the turbulent officer. He=
 did not care.
The "something special" was a printed=
 note 
 now in his desk drawer: "Helen Dunn begins her beauty sleep tonight=
 It's 
 going to be a long one. Mephistopheles. . . ."
Anyone can write a note, blame a personal killi=
ng on 
 a fictional psychopath. The police investigated the murder with more tha=
n usual 
 diligence, but spread no alarms.
Peyton dismissed the note as a blind a week and=
 a half 
 later, but spent the next two months mawr going through his mail=
 on the brink of 
 cardiac arrest.
He had just stopped fearing postal deliveries w=
hen the 
 second note arrived: "I'm afraid nypjiqpebrvc ggwselymb xjpinoxo ta ql m khryshh
 mecrtx cbfo
slwrialtykhxmrajur ct
du e kueilvik Tracy Huggins won't h=
ave much time for 
 studying from now on. But that do. 
 . . ."
That was the end of it.
Until now.
 
 * * *
"Why?" Her body tightened with rage. =
"I 
 mean, what makes you suspect them?"
He took his notebook from a drawer, placed it o=
pen on 
 the desk, and poised a pen over it.
She relaxed a little. "I only met Welch on=
ce, back 
 in 1977, when Lucy brought him home for a Fourth of July picnic. They we=
ren't 
 married yet, think she just met him. Didn't like him then. Every time I =
turned 
 around, he was hangin' around her; or he wasn't far away, watchin' her.<=
/font>
"And the way he watched her. I been in eno=
ugh bars 
 to know when a man watches you that way, you don't want no part of him.<=
/font>

  
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