Helga: from what I see you’ve got your hands full.

Backer: hands and other body parts. lol.

Helga: enough i don’t lol about stupidity.

Backer: meant to talk to you about that.

Helga: about what?

Backer: ur state of mind.

Helga: my mind is fine.

Backer: ur never

Helga: what’s to about?

Backer: hmmmm … how about big go-boom?

Helga: that? one small step.

Backer: for the elimination of mankind?

Helga: wish I believed in god.

Backer: why?

Helga: i could say god-willing.

Milo put the pile aside, squared the corners. “Creepy.”

I said, “There’s a flirtatious quality to it. Initiated by Backer, but she went along with it.”

“Guy never stopped trying. Guess his batting average proved it was a good strategy.”

“Except with Helga.”

“The one who got away,” he said. “She’s a cold one, Alex.”

“She’d contemplated becoming a nun. Maybe she’s one of those people with a low libido. Or she decided to suppress her urges.”

“Or she’s doing it with another guy and decided to be loyal.”

“Helga and Hoodie?” I said. “It’s possible, but I’ll bet sex is low priority for her.”

He smiled. “I could tell you about nuns.”

“The joys of parochial school?”

“Some of them were angels, greatest women I ever met. A few were monsters, about as warm and cuddly as Helga. Can you imagine her with a metal-edged ruler? Guess she found her own religion. First commandment: Lose the hair.”

“In a lot of cultures, hair’s a symbol of sensuality. Fundamentalists tend to cover their women and keep their own hair short. Buddhist monks shave their heads. It’s all about pruning vanity and focusing on nirvana.”

“Sista Skinhead aiming for a no-people nirvana. She finds common ground with Mr. Happy-face horndog. Poor fool had no idea Helga was using him.”

He flicked the transcripts. “I think I finally get Backer doing Doreen at Borodi. There never was any distinction between business and pleasure, for ol’ Des it was all about fun.” Shaking his head. “In flagrante destructo.”

He locked up, we took the stairs down, passed the clerk out front, and were at the door when a shout brought us to a halt.

The clerk stood and brandished the phone. “Call for you, Lieutenant Sturgis.”

“Who?”

A hand clamped over the receiver. Near-whispered reply: “God, delivering the tablets from Mount Sinai.”

“That was Moses.”

“Whatever, here, take it.”

Milo accepted the phone. “Sturgis—evening, sir … Yes I did… Yes, he did… I see… Thank you, sir … I hope so, too, sir.”

He hung up. The clerk said, “Is he mad? He sounded mad when I told him you weren’t in your office.”

“He’s peachy.”

“Good, good, I’m hearing bad talk about budget cuts. I’m new and I really need this job.”

“I’ll put in a good word for you.”

The clerk brightened. “You could do that?”

“If the topic comes up.”