Final Sins Read Free Page A

arousal. “I did—before I killed her.”
    “Tell it to her family.”
    “I have. They didn’t listen.”
    “Neither will I.” She started to get up.
    His arousal had told her everything about him that she needed to know. He was a typical anger-excitation sadist. For all his superficial polish, he was really no better than any back-alley rapist.
    “A man has been stalking Elise,” Faust said, with a nod toward his companion. “I believe he means her harm.”
    Abby hesitated, then resumed her seat, knowing that Faust was playing her—and ordinarily she was not the type to be played.
    “Give me the details,” she said.
    Faust complied. He and his girlfriend, Elise Vangarten , had first spotted the man at Cafe Eden ten days ago. They had assumed he was a fan, a “ lookie -loo,” as Elise put it. Abby thought the expression was appropriate. Lookie -loos were bystanders at crime scenes and accidents, drawn by morbid curiosity.
    When the man began appearing at other locations, Faust pegged him as a stalker. Two nights ago he shadowed Elise through a Century City parking garage. The experience left her rattled.
    “So call the cops,” Abby said.
    Faust frowned. “The police will not assist me. They seem to regard me with distaste.”
    “Imagine that.”
    “I am a legal resident of this country. I am entitled to certain rights. But the authorities see me only as the Werewolf. That was my nickname in the tabloid press, you know.” He sounded faintly proud of it.
    “I remember.” Abby’s nose wrinkled in disgust.
    “They cannot look past such labels and superficialities.”
    “It’s hard to look past the murder of an innocent woman. How old was she? Early twenties? About Elise’s age?”
    She hoped to draw a reaction from the girl, but there was none.
    Faust waved off the question with an airy flutter of his hand. “You in this country are so provincial. You cling to the simplistic morality of small-town burghers. Good versus evil, right and wrong. You are children who will not grow up.”
    “Thanks for the sociology lesson. I assume it was after the parking garage incident that you decided to try a private operative?”
    “Operative.” Faust pronounced the word slowly as if tasting it. “Yes.”
    “It’s not like I advertise in the Yellow Pages. How’d you find out about me?” This was a question she normally wouldn’t ask, but she couldn’t imagine which of her former clients would travel in Faust’s circle.
    “That is best left unstated.”
    “Is it? Why?”
    “I was sworn to secrecy.”
    “So?” She tried turning his own logic against him. “Right and wrong are only childish concepts. Violating an oath must be okay.”
    “I have my own code of conduct. It is not imposed on me by deities or traditions. It is my choice, my will.”
    Logic hadn’t worked. She tried begging. “Give me a hint, at least.”
    A smile played briefly at the corners of Faust’s mouth. “It was someone in the law-enforcement field,” he said finally.
    Law enforcement. That was weird. Abby couldn’t recall ever having had a client with a job in that line.
    Of course, Faust might be putting her on. He didn’t strike her as a guy who had a lot of connections with officers of the law.
    “That doesn’t help me too much,” she said.
    “It was not meant to.”
    She dropped the subject. “I assume your friend gave you some idea of how I conduct business.”
    “Indeed. You are a stalker of stalkers. You make them your prey.”
    She wasn’t sure she cared for the word prey . “Let’s just say I identify a stalker, infiltrate his fife—”
    “Determine his whereabouts,” Faust said.
    “And assess his threat potential. That’s really the most important part.”
    “Yes, certainly,” he added as if it were an afterthought.
    “Tell me about the guy. What he looks like, where else you’ve seen him. That kind of thing. It’s what the folks in the writing game call exposition—boring but