“Of course.” Bram stuck his hands in his pants pockets, leaned against the wall. “Take care, Mrs. Decker. I’d hug you if I could. But as someone once told me, people talk.”

“Yes, they do.” Rina smiled at him. “Besides, Father, we have our proprieties.”

“Absolutely.” Bram regarded her with loving eyes. “Consider yourself hugged anyway.”

“Ditto.” Rina smiled back, then walked away.

15

Decameron said, “This man is Lieutenant Decker, Liz. He’s in charge of Azor’s investigation. Lieutenant, Dr. Elizabeth Fulton.”

Decker shook her hand, noticing long, slender fingers. Her face was grave, but childlike—waifish with big brown eyes. Her hair was auburn and bushy. Little Orphan Annie had grown up to be a doctor. She wore a trim black wool suit, the short skirt showing long, shapely legs.

“I don’t suppose you’ve found out anything,” Liz said.

Decameron said, “Darling, even Sherlock needed a couple of days before he pronounced.”

Liz said, “Don’t they say most homicides are solved within forty-eight hours?”

“Then the man still has thirty to go,” Decameron stated. “No smoking gun?”

“Wish it were so.”

“Keep digging, Lieutenant. Everyone has a past.” Decameron smiled. “Would you like to hear about mine?”

“I’m listening, Doctor.”

“Reggie, don’t be tasteless.”

“Two charges of solicitation, both over eighteen,” Decameron said. “I’m not a baby raper, I detest NAM-BLA and its perverts, disavow anything that harms children. I’m simply queer—”

“Reggie—”

“One charge was thrown out, the other stuck. Azor just about boxed me when he found out. But I ate shit and he relented.” Decameron looked away. “For all his rigidity and fanaticism, Azor was a soft touch.”

“Court put you on probation, Dr. Decameron?”

“Six months plus one hundred hours of community service.” Decameron grinned. “I worked in Boys Town.” He grew serious. “It wasn’t bad actually. The critters grew fond of me. This was back…maybe two and a half years ago. I still pop in about once a month. How’s that for being Joe Q Citizen?”

“You read them alternative bedtime stories, Reggie?” Liz said.

“Hansel and Hans.” Decameron cocked his hip. “Actually, I do bona fide patient care. You’d be proud of me, Liz. I’m very doctorly.”

She looked at him. “That’s nice, Reg.”

“What do you do?” Decker asked.

“Not much. Most runaways are in deplorable health. Their bodies are battered from drug abuse, sexual abuse, physical abuse, malnutrition plus adolescent hormones. Basically, I put Band-Aids on surgical wounds. Give them medicine for the obvious infections and dispense words of Welbyan advice. Tell them there’s a better way, tell them there’s a life out there, tell them to be more cautious. It’s like telling me to be straight. One ear and out the other. C’est la vie. You can’t save the world. Speaking of miscreants, how’s your husband, Elizabeth?” He turned to Decker. “Have you met Drew?”