“Do I want to know where the money comes from?”

“He had a trust fund,” she said. “Sort of. He used it to buy buildings in Manhattan in the ’90s. Sold them twenty years later for ten times what he paid for them. Oh, he’s hung like a horse, too.”

“We’re one-hundred percent done talking about this.”

“Talking about what?” Nora said.

“Thank you.”

Nora sent Gmork back to his doghouse, which was only slightly smaller than Cyrus’s first adult apartment.

“So, we go to Father Ike’s place now?” Nora asked.

Cyrus paused. “Once you tell me what you all were saying about me in French.”

“Believe it or not,” she said, “we weren’t talking about you at all. Kingsley asked how our Viking was. I said he was okay. Then I asked King how well he slept last night. Kingsley said he slept very well. I said I didn’t sleep much. He flipped me off.”

“That part I got. He mad you got some and he didn’t?”

“I don’t blame him,” she said. “And trust me, if King has something to say about you, he’ll say it in English.”

They returned to her car. “Where to?” she asked.

“St. Valentine’s,” Cyrus said, and gave her directions.

“You know, we might never figure out how he got my card. We had hundreds printed.”

“We?” Cyrus said. “You investigating this case now?”

“Wouldn’t you be a little curious if someone you didn’t know called you two minutes before shooting themselves in the head?”

“Probably. But this is my job. It’s not yours.”

“If Father Ike was kinky, he was one of us,” she said, pointing at herself. “Somehow we failed him if he thought the only way out was suicide.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Cyrus said. “People make their own choices.”

“True. But I want to help if I can.”

“You’re kind of friendly for a dominatrix,” Cyrus said. “Where’s the whip and chains?”

“You wanna see ’em?” She glanced at him over the top of her sunglasses.

He pointed at her. “You’re trouble.”

“Yeah, sorry.” She pushed her sunglasses back on and faced forward, eyes on the road. “Old habits die hard.”

“I hear that,” he said, wincing.

“Oh…there’s a story there.” She laughed. “Spill it.”

“Not telling it.”

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

“You already told me yours,” he said.

“Not all of it.”

Cyrus laughed. He liked her. That was a fact. Whether he should like her…well, that he didn’t know.

“I’ll tell you something,” Cyrus said. “Doctor’s orders.”

“Now I’m intrigued,” she said. “Tell me anything you want.”

“I’ve had…ah…issues in the past. With women.”

“Issues?”

“Honesty issues,” he said. “I’m seeing someone for all that. And it’s helping. One of the things I’m supposed to work on is being truthful with the women in my life. No false pretenses, no lies. Not even white lies. So, you know, don’t ask me something if you don’t want an honest answer.”

“Are you lying to me about something?”