’ He heard Roding snort, and suppressed a grin as he bowed, taking the trouble to salute Madame’s hand and cast her a provocative look as he did so. . In Larry’s old Cadillac sedan, she sat in the backseat as Larry drove and Cathy sat beside him. She would take the items with her; bury the items and her bloodstained clothes in one of the many sinkholes in the huge landfill/garbage dump on the south side of town. On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains. He held her eyes. Set on unravelling her secrets, Gerald pursues every possible clue—much to the indignation of Mademoiselle. I pray you, Gérard, do not fail me.
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