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“Tell me about Birdie.”
“He’s got on red slippers and some sort of hat. Maybe a sombrero.”
My eyes rolled. “How goes your assignment with the SQ?”
“We made an arrest and are working to flip the kid. Predictably, things have gone quiet on the scoring front.”
“Good job.”
“Is it that little black teddy with lace on the—”
“Monck thinks Musgrove was killed by her ex. A man named Milo Willis.”
“Has he hauled in Willis?”
“Not yet, but he will. He seems gutted by her murder.”
I told Ryan about Uri Stribbe. About my findings concerning the tool and the person that hacked off Palke’s and Bonner’s hands.
“So Stribbe is looking good for this serial?”
“Both vics were mutilated by a person skilled with a sharp instrument. Uri Stribbe is ashochet.”
“A slaughterer.”
“Yes.”
“A butcher sure fits your profile.”
“It does.”
“Motive?”
“He’s batshit crazy?”
“Always a decent theory. How much longer will you be there?”
“I’m not sure.”
“LaManche misses you.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Birdie and I miss you.”
“I miss you more.”
Ryan’s sign-off proposal could have melted the Greenland ice sheet.
I unstacked the pillows and pulled the covers to my chin.
In minutes I was dead to the world.
21
TUESDAY, JULY16
I felt weight on my chest.
