Palmer Stone had the morning Post lying open on his desk. He'd invited Gloria to read it, but she told him she already had.
Stone had called her in for a morning confab. Gloria, alone, not with Victor. So here she was, wearing a white tunic, black slacks, and black boots, with her red silk scarf knotted loosely at her neck.
Stone was in his big swivel chair behind his desk, his head not moving as he stared at Gloria, but his body inching this way and that in the chair. Nervous.
"If you already read the paper," he said in his usual modulated voice, "you know this dead woman they found in New Jersey was impaled with a sharpened broomstick."
"Kinda shit happens," Gloria said.
"I don't like it happening right in our backyard. It makes me wonder."
"The cops'll probably wrap it up soon. The guy they suspect's photo's right there on the front page." Gloria motioned with her head toward the newspaper on the desk. "They even have his name. Tom whatever."
"Tom Coulter. He's a house burglar who had a job go bad and killed some people."
"In New Jersey. Where this woman's body was found."
"Awful close to New York."
Gloria tilted her head and stared at Stone with an expression of disbelief.
"Jesus, Palmer! This New Jersey thing has nothing to do with us. They didn't find just her torso. And they identified her immediately. If the press is tying it in with the Torso Murders, they're wrong."
"I'd like to agree with you, but I'm having a tough time." Stone puffed up his cheeks, blew out some air. "The three of us have worked together for a lot of years."
"So let's stop gassing to each other about what we both already know. I'd ask what's bothering you, Palmer, because you're obviously bothered, but I can guess what it is. I know why you wanted to see me this morning."
"Don't bother to guess," Stone said. "I've got an inkling of a suspicion your brother killed this woman."
"Victor? Don't believe it, Palmer."
"I didn't say I believed it."
"But you're tilting in that direction."
"Why shouldn't I be? He's been acting strange lately, and the way the woman-Ruth somebody-died, it sure put me in mind of Victor."
"Was Ruth a client, Palmer?"
"You know she wasn't."
"Then what would be Victor's motivation? Why would he do one off the books?"
"I can't answer that for sure, Gloria. But speaking of books, I've been to Victor's apartment and seen his. I noticed some new additions. Brand-new-looking books on Vlad the Impaler. You know who he was?"
"Of course. I'm not ignorant, Palmer. He lived during the Middle Ages, I think. Bad guy. Terrorized his enemies by impaling people and hoisting them up on poles driven into the ground. Weird guy. Sick."
"Your brother seems awfully interested in him."
"Victor's always been into history and biography. What's that got to do with motive?"
"I'm wondering," Stone said, "if maybe Victor's come to enjoy that aspect of his work so much that he's moonlighting-not for pay, just for pleasure."
"You're suggesting my brother's some kind of sick sadist." Gloria fixed her onyx eyes on him. He couldn't look away. "Listen to me close, Palmer. Victor didn't kill that woman."
"Then who did?"
"Tom Coulter."
"I kind of doubt it."
"Then maybe it was someone who's read about the Torso Murders or followed them on TV. Some guy who leaned toward sadism to begin with and decided to get in on the act. Only for him, there was no reason to sever the head and limbs. He didn't care if the body was identified."
"He didn't expect the body to be found," Stone pointed out.
Gloria didn't change expression. It was true that she and Victor hadn't expected the body to be found. Acres and acres of trash, every kind of refuse, and Ruth Malpass had been five feet down in it, waiting to be shoved into a vast pit of trash. It was a fluke that she was found.
Gloria crossed her arms and spread her feet wide, becoming angry, and glared at Stone. "If you really suspect Victor of killing this woman, I can put your mind at ease. During the time the police say she was killed, he was with me. We were in his apartment. We take turns preparing each other a gourmet dinner once a week. Last time, it was Victor's turn. We were enjoying lobster lasagna and a good wine when that woman was killed."
"Victor never left your sight?"
"Not for more than five minutes, if that long. And I stayed until almost midnight."
"Why so late?"
"We got to talking about business and lost track of time. I know it was close to midnight because I looked at my watch and told him how late it was."
Stone sighed, making Gloria wonder if he might be feigning relief. You could never tell for sure with Palmer. The discovery of Ruth's body had complicated things.
"Do me a favor," Stone said. "Even if you don't take what I'm saying seriously, keep an eye on your brother. We don't really know people, even the ones closest to us."
"I know Victor," Gloria said. "He's like me. We're businesspeople first and foremost. As you are, Palmer. We're not sadists or devil worshipers. We pray to profit and to the good Lord."
"In that order?"
She flashed a crooked grin. "'Fraid so."
"People can change, even the best people. I don't want Victor doing anything dangerous, either for him or for the company."
"He isn't, I'm sure."
"Still, will you watch him? If there are any changes, you might be the first to notice."
Gloria uncrossed her arms and loosened her stance. She was no longer intractable. Her expression suggested that, however unlikely, Stone might have a point. She had to concede him that. "I'll watch him, Palmer. If he starts behaving strangely, I'll let you know."
Stone stood up behind his desk wearing the smile she knew so well, the inclusive, reassuring one that lulled the marks.
"I'm counting on you, Gloria."
"You've always been able to do that, Palmer. Nothing's changed."
As she left the office she was smiling, too. Her smile was nothing like Palmer Stone's.
She was thinking about Ruth Malpass.