“Maybe we can,” Gaynor interrupted. “If Mohammed won’t come to the mountain, we’ll just go to the mountain.”

Marge furrowed her brow. “That’s not the saying.”

“What are you saying, Farrell?” Decker asked.

“Can’t get the data from Fisher/Tyne. But maybe I can get it from the FDA.”

They all stared at him. Decker said, “You can do that?”

“I don’t know.” Gaynor shrugged. “But I’ll give it my best shot.” He checked his watch. “It’s past eight, Eastern time. All the offices are closed. I’ll try tomorrow.”

Oliver said, “Your watch stopped, Farrell. It’s past ten back east.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right.” Gaynor reset his watch. “Thanks.”

“Something’s bothering me,” Marge said. “Why would Bram keep his bloody clothing in his apartment safe. Why not just chuck the threads?”

Martinez said, “Maybe he didn’t know where to chuck it.”

“Anywhere’s better than in your apartment safe—”

“Which brings to mind another question,” Martinez said. “Safes don’t come with apartments like dishwashers. What was Bram doing with a safe in his apartment?”

“Hiding porno,” Oliver said. “Told you it was his den of iniquity.”

“You need a safe to hide porno magazines?” Marge asked. “You stick them under a mattress.”

Everyone was silent.

Marge said, “Sparks’s cross just happens to be left at the scene of the crime, a key to his apartment just happens to be in Decameron’s pocket. Then Bram, who by all accounts is a smart guy, brilliantly decides to hide incriminating evidence in a safe inside his apartment with explicit, raunchy gay porno.”

“I told you it smells like a setup,” Oliver said.

“But he was there,” Webster said.

“Yeah, he was there,” Marge said. “But in what capacity?”

Oliver laughed. “He gave Decameron last rites.”

Again, everyone was quiet.

Oliver laughed again. “Aw, c’mon!”

Webster said, “If someone’s setting him up, why isn’t he protesting?”

Marge said, “Because he’s protecting someone.”

Decker thought a moment. “Could be. Trouble is, the guy’s not talking.”

Webster said, “One of the most frustrating suckers I ever did meet. Couldn’t squeeze a word out of him.”

Martinez said, “He’s a priest. Maybe by talking, he’d be violating his sacramental seal.”

“Did he claim priest confidentiality?” Oliver asked.

“No, he didn’t claim anything,” Webster said. “Just sat there, stoiclike, telling me he was sorry he couldn’t help me.”

“Hate to be a broken record, but he’s protecting someone,” Marge stated.

“You know, you can protect someone without deliberately screwing yourself up,” Martinez said. “I still think it was a lover’s spat. I think Bram went too far. And after he realized what he’d done, he panicked and fled, stuffed his clothes in the safe until he could figure out what to do.”