Читать книгу Urge To Kill - John Lutz - Страница 14

Quinn figured it wasn’t midnight yet, so Pearl might still be awake.

She wasn’t a night owl in the sense that she liked to roam around the city after dark. It was simply that Pearl couldn’t sleep. She was probably pacing the stifling confines of her apartment, counting the steps. Or maybe bouncing off the walls. She’d always been like that, even when living with Quinn. He’d wake up at 3:00 A.M. and find her in the living room, eating potato chips and watching television news or an old movie. She was partial to the old Busby Berkeley musicals, where every time a dancer takes an initial step a thousand other dancers appear.

He was right about her being awake. She picked up halfway through the second ring.

“Watching an old movie?” Quinn asked.

“Quinn. What are you doing, spying on me with a telescope?”

“I would if I could see you from here.”

“Babes on Broadway,” she said.

“I’d spy on them, too.”

“That’s the movie I’m watching, Babes on Broadway.”

“Mickey Rooney?”

“Not here.”

“Don’t wanna talk to him anyway,” Quinn said. “Wanna talk to you.”

“Talk.”

“You should be in bed sleeping.”

“Like you should. You didn’t call me about sleeping.”

“Being in bed, though…”

“Have a good reason for being on the line, Quinn, or I’m hanging up so I can watch the dancing.”

He told her about Renz’s visit and job offer.

“I’m still working at Sixth National,” she said when he was finished. “They need me.”

“Pearl, Sixth National Bank hasn’t been held up since nineteen twenty-seven.”

“Overdue.”

“You can get a leave of absence.”

“I know,” she said. “That’s our arrangement. It’s just…”

“What?”

“You start these things, these murder cases, and they take over your life. You understand. I know you do. It’s a strain on mind and body, Quinn. It becomes a goddamned obsession.”

“There are good obsessions, Pearl.”

“Are there? I can’t think of any.”

“All right,” Quinn said, tired of arguing with her. “We’re slaves to ourselves all the way to the grave.”

“Slaves to something,” Pearl said.

“You in?” Quinn asked.

She didn’t answer right away. He could hear lively dance music in the background.

“Pearl?”

“I’m in,” she said.

Slaves to something.

After the conversation with Pearl, Quinn decided not to call Fedderman until morning. Retirees went to bed early, didn’t they?

Quinn decided they did and went to bed himself.

He had trouble falling asleep. Maybe Pearl was right about obsessions. The hunt wasn’t only in his mind, though. It was in every cell of his being. It seemed a kind of destiny that he and whoever was on a killing spree should share a common struggle.

There was little doubt in Quinn’s mind that there was a serial killer out there in the city, playing out the drama he’d chosen for himself, making Quinn a part of it. Quinn would be the part the killer would regret. Old juices were starting to flow again. The hunt was in body and blood.

“Locked in,” Quinn actually muttered, and finally fell asleep.