Pardy lurched around like a sailing ship tacking into the wind. Pike stepped down out of the entry to let him pass. When Pardy reached the door, he looked back at me. He didn't seem scared; he seemed certain.

"Sit this one out."

"Good night, Pardy."

Pardy left, and after a minute his car pulled away. When it was gone, Pike holstered his .357.

"Was this about your father?"

Just like that.

"He isn't my father, for Christ's sake. How do you know about this?"

"Starkey."

"Are you two phone buddies now?"

"She was concerned."

Pike knew much of it from Starkey, but I filled in the rest. Joe Pike had been my closest friend and only partner for almost twenty years, but we had never much shared the facts of our childhoods to any great degree. I'm not sure why, only that it had never seemed necessary and maybe even felt beside the point. Maybe it was enough that we were who we were, and were good with that; or maybe we each felt our baggage was lighter without the weight of someone else's concern. When I reached the part about the Home Away Suites, I showed Pike the bill with Faustina's name and address. Pike glanced at it.

"This isn't the right area code for Scottsdale. His address and phone number don't go together."

The motel record showed 416 as the area code for Faustina's home number.

"What's Scottsdale?"

"Four-eighty."

I brought the invoice to the phone, and punched in the number. A computer chimed immediately to inform me that no such listing existed. Next, I booted up my iMac, signed on to Yahoo's map program, and entered Faustina's address. No such street existed in Scottsdale. I leaned back in my chair and glanced up at Pike; everything I thought I knew about Herbert Faustina was wrong.

"His phone number and address don't exist. He made them up."

Pike studied the invoice again, then handed it back.

"My guess is he made up more than that. Maria Faustina was the first saint of this millennium. She was canonized for her trust in God's Divine Mercy. Five gets you ten he was using an alias."

Pike knows the most surprising things.

I unfolded the morgue photos and showed him the picture of Herbert Faustina's tattoos.

"I guess he sought mercy."

"Maybe," Pike said. "But mercy for what?"

Chapter 11

Yard Work F rederick made three trips down to Payne's house that day, not that so much was left after all these years, but the bags were awkward. Each time he came down, he was terrified the police would be waiting. He crept through the trees, gut-sick with fear until he saw that the coast was clear.