“Judging from the crow’s-feet, I’d say it was a long, long time ago,” Ruby answered. “Do you get what I’m saying here, folks? That totalitarianism can’t exist in a vacuum. I mean, look how fast the Berlin Wall fell. Seventy years of entrenched, hardened Communism brought down like that.” She snapped her fingers.

“Did you and Ernesto ever talk about Hitler?” Webster asked.

“About Hitler, Stalin, Ivan the Terrible, Louis the XVI, Marie Antoinette, Bluebeard, Jeffrey Dahmer, Gacy, Ed Gein, Lizzie Borden, Richard III…what else? So I have a fixation about the dark side. The country hasn’t retracted the First Amendment so far as I know.”

Webster said, “You look like you’re in a hurry to leave.”

“You’re a clever one for a hick.” She sat on the edge of her bed. “If you’re assuming that my rapid exit implies some kind of guilt, you are out of the ballpark, my cutie pie. Ernesto admitted that he vandalized the synagogue. If he had help, I don’t know about it. We didn’t talk much. We had a sex-shu-al relationship. He’s large and that was why I put up with him. I’m twenty-three and a genius on many levels, he’s seventeen—bright but no Einstein. Not that he doesn’t have promise, but he needs a few more years for his brain to gel. We fucked more than we talked.”

“You just opened yourself up to statutory rape,” Webster said.

“I fucking quake. But sure, if you want to arrest me for rape or putting ideas into his head, give it your best shot.” She stood and hefted the duffel. “Not too bad.” She disappeared, then came out of the bathroom holding an armful of hair and bath products, dumping them into the nylon bag. “You talk to your superior’s kid about me? Jacob Lazarus. Now that kid had some genuine gray matter. A certified cutie, but very disturbed. Man, he really hates me!” She grinned. “I’d keep an eye on him. Because isn’t it always the hotshot’s kid who’s the most fucked up?”

She paused.

“Although I can identify with his anger. Life is so stupid when you’re that smart. I think that’s why I’m so obsessed with those who make an impact, albeit an evil one.” She zipped up the duffel and lifted it again. “Man, this fucker is heavy! You want to help me?”

“No, not at all,” Wanda said.

She smiled. “Suit yourself. I’m outta here. Tell my mother that Dad’s still fucking his secretary, so she may as well have that piece of chocolate cake.” She winked and lifted the bag about two inches off the ground. “Bye now.”

They followed her down the staircase. Alice was waiting at the bottom. “When will you be back?”