The Corporal Works of Murder Read Online Free PDF Page B

didn’t seem too impressed.
    â€œI wonder if she was successful,” Kate mused.
    â€œSuccessful at what?” Gallagher sounded genuinely puzzled.
    â€œAt not being recognized.”
    â€œYou didn’t recognize her,” Gallagher said.
    â€œBut I would have eventually,” Kate said. “Given enough time I would have remembered where I had seen that face. I wonder if someone else recognized her.”
    â€œYou’re assuming that she stumbled into something and that’s what got her killed. Maybe it was a random drive-by shooting. Or a crazy on the street who isn’t pretending.” Gallagher stared at her over the tops of his horn-rimmed glasses.
    â€œI’m not ruling anything in or out,” Kate said. “I’m just thinking out loud.”
    â€œAnd you could be wrong about who she is.” Gallagher swallowed
hard, then wagged his head like a weary hound. “I sure hope to God you’re wrong.”
    â€œMe, too,” Kate said, rummaging through the remaining plastic bags, hoping to find some positive identification. She was scarcely aware of the cars whizzing by on Eighth Street or the indelibly marked man studying her from the doorway of the tattoo parlor. “Nothing,” she said finally.
    â€œSo we don’t even know for sure she was Vice.” Gallagher wasn’t going to give up easily.
    â€œWhy don’t I call Jack? Maybe he knows whether or not they’ve got a woman undercover.”
    Jack Bassetti, Kate’s husband, worked the Vice Squad of the San Francisco Police Department. It was one of the reasons she used her maiden name—to avoid confusion. Two Inspector Bassettis was one too many. After Jack had been shot on duty, he was reassigned, but not for long. His heart was in Vice.
    Quickly Kate stuffed the plastic bags back into the cart so a technician could take it downtown. “Why don’t we use the phone in the Refuge? Their office would be private enough.”
    Gallagher scowled. “The Refuge?” he groaned. “That’s just inviting trouble. There must be another phone in this area.”
    Kate shrugged. “Maybe, but I’m going to ask to use theirs. At least I know that no one will overhear me.”
    â€œNo one but that old nun,” Gallagher grumbled, “and who could be worse?”
    â€œThey have iced tea,” Kate tempted him.
    Still grousing, her partner followed her down the block. His thirst must have outweighed his objections.
    The minute they opened the front door, a tense silence filled the room. Anxious faces studied them. “Good morning, ladies,” Kate said pleasantly.
    â€œThat’s what you think,” tiny, black Peanuts sneered.
    â€œIt ain’t a good day at all when one of us be dead!” Miss Bobbie, her hair tightly braided, spoke up.

    â€œDing, dong, the witch is dead. Which old witch?” a woman sang out.
    There was no forgetting Crazy Alice. Although she was singing softer than Kate remembered, she looked as if she was going for the second line.
    Before she had the chance, Mary Helen emerged from the kitchen. “Come in, Inspectors,” she called, holding a large pitcher of iced tea. “Why don’t you sit down for a few minutes to cool off?”
    Sister Anne followed her with the stack of plastic glasses. A third woman, the volunteer who gave her name as Ruth Davis, carried an enormous tray of oatmeal cookies.
    â€œWe need to use your office phone first, if you don’t mind,” Kate said, grabbing a cookie. She noticed that her partner was unusually quiet, almost sheepish. Good, she thought, following Sister Anne, who unlocked the office door. He should feel shame-faced. While he had been outside complaining about Mary Helen, she had been inside doing something thoughtful for him. He had been so churlish with her and she, so gracious in return. Serves him right!
    The Vice Squad telephone was answered on the