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shuffled his feet. “A few weeks.”
    Aidan looked him in the eye. “Weeks?”
    McNulty looked away, his pale cheeks now mottled with color. “Okay, months.”
    Aidan was sure McNulty knew a great deal more than he was saying. “Has anyone been here to visit Miss Adams recently?”
    McNulty looked miserable. “She gets a lot of visitors.”
    Aidan’s ears perked up. From the corner of his eye he could see Murphy had picked up on it, too. “What kind of visitors, sir?”
    McNulty’s attempt at nonchalance fell flat. “Lots of people liked Cynthia.”
    “You mean lots of men?” Aidan asked sharply.
    McNulty closed his eyes, guilt clear on his face. Had he been sober, Aidan didn’t think he’d have been nearly so transparent. Or cooperative. Go Bul s. “Some. Yeah.”
    “Some or yeah?”
    He opened his eyes, panicked. “Listen, if my wife finds out… She’l kill me.”
    Murphy blinked. “You mean you were having an affair with Miss Adams?”
    “No.” McNulty shook his head hard. “Not an affair. Just once.”
    Aidan raised a brow. “Once.”
    McNulty took another step back. “Twice. Three times, tops.”
    “Did she… charge you, Mr. McNulty?” Murphy asked quietly.
    Aidan doubted the look of sheer horror on the man’s face could have been faked. “No! God, no. She was… appreciative. That’s al .”
    This was getting interesting, Aidan thought. “Appreciative. For?”
    “I turned off the camera on this floor, okay? Some of her friends didn’t want to be seen. I don’t know any names. Didn’t want to know any names. She did her own thing and I looked the other way, I swear to God. Please, just let me go.”
    Aidan shot a look at Murphy. “We done with him?”
    “For now,” Murphy said mildly and they watched as McNulty clumsily picked his way across the strewn flowers, anxious to be as far away as possible. “We’l be in touch, Mr. McNulty,” he added. McNulty gave one last shaky nod and was gone.
    Aidan pushed the door closed. “Now I wonder what kind of friends those could be.”
    “And I wonder if any of them could have given her this.” Murphy held up the photo of the dead woman dangling from the noose. “Autoerotic asphyxiation?”
    Aidan grimaced. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never come across it.”
    “I have,” Murphy said, moving into the bedroom. “When something goes wrong, it’s not pretty. See if you can find a picture of Adams’s face so we’l at least know what she looked like while I search in here.”
    Aidan listened to Murphy opening drawers in Adams’s bedroom while he went through her purse, pul ing her driver’s license from her wallet. He felt an unwelcome tug of pity for the somber face that stared back from the license picture. This woman looked put together. Very proper. Very restrained.

    16
    Karen Rose

    [Suspense 5]

    You Can't Hide
    Now she was lying on the sidewalk, twenty-two stories down. Very dead. Why had she done it? What had happened in the last month to make her late on her rent and ultimately so depressed she thought taking her own life was the only solution? But then, that was ultimately the problem with suicides, he thought bitterly. They didn’t stick around long enough for the people that loved them to get answers to those questions. “She was thirty-four, Murphy. She wore corrective lenses and she was an organ donor.”
    Murphy appeared in the bedroom doorway, furry handcuffs in one hand, a small leather whip in the other. “She was also into some pretty kinky shit. There’s a pul ey rigged in the corner. Looks like she’s hoisted herself a time or two.”
    Aidan blinked at the paraphernalia in Murphy’s hands then looked again at the solemn woman on the driver’s license. “You wouldn’t guess it by looking at her.”
    “You can’t always. What does she have in her purse?”
    Quickly Aidan sorted through the small bag. “Four credit cards, a cell phone, various and sundry lipsticks, and a key ring.” He held it up. “One