“Of course I didn’t! All I wanted was for her to be served.”

“So maybe Williams is just a guy who does favors for those in authority.”

“And now he hates me for firing him,” said Fellinger. “So he’s punishing me by taking Merry? Can you start searching for her instead of all this talk?”

“We’ll try, sir.”

“That doesn’t sound encouraging.”

Milo walked out. I followed.

We met back at his office. During my drive, I’d called and texted Darius Kleffer. So far, no reply. Milo shoved papers off his desk, including flyers for restaurants near the station.

“Food,” he said. “Used to think I liked it.”

He ran John Jensen Williams through NCIC, found the New York battery conviction as well as a voyeurism case in New Haven when Williams had been an eighteen-year-old freshman at Yale. Caught peeping through the dorm windows of female students, he’d received a suspended criminal sentence and had been expelled. The battery case—slapping a line cook at a Midtown restaurant—had been dropped for lack of evidence.

Milo said, “Lucky boy. Unlucky society.”

I said, “Maybe not quite so lucky with being forced out of Yale.”

“No jail time for a guy we’re assuming is ultra-twisted sounds like lucky to me.”

“That and he’s learned to be careful.”

“Showing up outside the bathroom and creeping out women ain’t careful, Alex.”

“I’ll amend that. Careful until recently.”

“He’s falling apart? Great. Think he took the Santos girl?”

“My guess would be more likely than not, but at this point I don’t trust my instincts.”

“Why not?”

“From Fellinger to Corey to Williams? I’ve been wrong about too damn much.”

“Makes two of us. How the hell did you guess it was Williams? And why didn’t you tell me?”

“I called to tell you before we met up at Fellinger’s but you had your own news and hung up. I’d just found the tattoo parlor where Frankie was most recently inked and talked to the owner. Every time he worked on her, Williams was there, taking charge of the situation. Frankie was extremely submissive, sat there like a zombie, turned down a topical anesthetic, because pain made her feel like a person. Months before that, Williams brought Kathy Hennepin to the same place and tried to get her tattooed. The artist said she was uneasy but was on the verge of doing it. Then she burst out of the chair and split. Shortly after, she was dead and Frankie had taken her place.”

“She tells Williams no and dies?”

“A boy and his slaves.”

“Jesus.” He pinched his nose, breathed out noisily, seemed amused by the sound-effect and sat back with his feet up. “So Williams was the evil wizard running Frankie’s life. Still see her as a possible button-woman for Ursula?”

“Doesn’t sound as if Williams needs help killing anyone, but who knows?”