Decker ignored her anger, pushed aside the mouths, and spread a half-dozen photos over the backseat. Ritchie Parker jumped up, his head hitting the top of the car roof. His forefinger nearly speared the picture of Hersh.

“That’s him!” he shouted.

Decker smiled at the police artist. “Have a nice evening, Officer. Get some sleep on me.”

She let go with a reluctant smile, gathered her mouths, and got out of the car. Decker took her place at Parker’s right; Cleveland sat at Parker’s left. The thin man’s eyes darted nervously between the two detectives.

Decker said, “You’re sure you saw this guy”—he held up the picture of Hersh—“leaving with the victim.”

“Positive,” Parker said. “Mr. Harrow is a regular. A very big tipper and a big drinker. It’s easy for me to keep tabs on him—no pun intended.”

Cleveland asked how it was easy to keep tabs on him.

Ritchie said, “See, if he’s having a good time, it’s drinks for everyone. If not…he drinks to forget the rotten night he’s having. When that man”—he stabbed Hersh’s picture—“when he came in, I noticed him right away. He was dressed like he was on the hustle. But I knew he’d find someone because…well, because he was good-looking. In a tough sort of way. Except when he smiled. He had a weird smile.”

Decker looked up from his note pad. “What was weird about it?”

“It was…I don’t know,” Parker said. “Lopsided, I guess you’d call it.”

“Okay,” Decker said. He wrote down the word: Lopsided. It would jibe nicely with Thomas Stoner’s account of Hersh. Tie the two crimes together. “Go on.”

“Where was I?” Parker said.

“He was tough-looking,” Cleveland said.

“Yes, he was,” Parker said. “Kinda hypermacho and he spoke with an accent—a German accent. A lot of the leather set get off on the German accent so that’s nothing new. But this guy, he sounded like he really did speak German.”

Decker wrote: German accent? He said, “He was dressed in a leather getup?”

“Oh, no,” Parker said. “He was dressed very nicely. Sort of a casual but expensive look. Just that the leather set is into Teutonic things. I knew Mr. Harrow would go for him. He likes…”

Parker suddenly paled and held his head. “My God, that poor man…I feel sick.”

Both Decker and Cleveland jumped out of the car. Parker stuck his head out and retched. After he was done vomiting, he wiped his mouth on the blanket and apologized.

Cleveland threw a beefy hand on Parker’s thin bony shoulder. “You’re doing all right. I’m not feelin’ so good myself.”

Decker pulled out a tube of VapoRub. “It’s the smell. Coat your nose with this.” He pushed out some VapoRub onto Parker’s fingertips. “It blocks the smell.”