“I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d understand—”
Starling managed a smile. “Don’t worry, A. Benning, we’ll get along fine. See, the arrows are both yellow. The crossbow quarrel is yellow because it’s been painted by hand, not a bad job, but a little streaky. Look here, what does that look like under the paint?”
“Maybe a hair off the brush?”
“Maybe. But look how it’s curved toward one end and has a little bulb at the end. What if it’s an eyelash?”
“If it’s got the follicle—”
“Right.”
“Look, I can run PCR-STR—three colors at once— in the same line in the gel and get you three DNA sites at a time. It’ll take thirteen sites for court, but a couple of days will be enough to know pretty well if it’s him.”
“A. Benning, I knew you could help me.”
“You’re Starling. I mean Special Agent Starling. I didn’t mean to get off on the wrong foot—I see a lot of real bad evidence the cops send in—it has nothing to do with you.”
“I know.”
“I thought you’d be older. All the girls—the women know about you, I mean everybody does, but you’re kind of” —A. Benning looked away— “kind of special to us.” A. Benning held up her chubby little thumb. “Good luck with the Other. If you don’t mind my saying so.”
CHAPTER
60
MASON VERGER’S majordomo, Cordell, was a large man with exaggerated features who might have been handsome with more animation in his face. He was thirty-seven years old and he could never work in the health industry in Switzerland again, or have any employment there that put him in close contact with children.
Mason paid him a large salary to be in charge of his wing, with responsibility for his care and feeding. He had found Cordell to be absolutely reliable and capable of anything. Cordell had witnessed acts of cruelty on video as Mason interviewed little children that would have moved anyone else to rage or tears.
Today Cordell was a little concerned about the only matter holy to him, money.
He gave his familiar double knock on the door and went into Mason’s room. It was completely dark except for the glowing aquarium. The eel knew he was there and rose from his hole, hoping.
“Mr. Verger?”
A moment while Mason came awake.
“I need to mention something to you, I have to make an extra payment in Baltimore this week to the same person we spoke about before. It’s not any kind of emergency basis, but it would be prudent. That Negro child Franklin ate some rat poison and was in cridical condition earlier this week. He’s telling his foster mother it was your suggestion he should poison his cat to keep the police from torturing it. So, he gave the cat to a neighbor and took the rat poison himself.”
“That’s absurd,” Mason said. “I had nothing to do with it.”
“Of course it’s absurd, Mr. Verger.”
“Who’s complaining, the woman you get the kids from?”
“She?
?s the one that has to be paid at once.”
“Cordell, you didn’t interfere with the little bastard? They didn’t find anything in him at the hospital, did they? I’ll find out, you know.”
“No, sir. In your home? Never, I swear it. You know I’m not a fool. I love my job.”
“Where is Franklin?”
“Maryland-Misericordia Hospital. When he gets out he’ll go to a group home. You know the woman he lived with got kicked off the foster home list for smoking marijuana. She’s the one complaining about you. We may have to deal with her.”
“Coon doper, shouldn’t be much problem.”