“What is their child’s name?”“They don’t have children. He’s the minister of the Holy Sepulcher Evangelical Brotherhood Church, over on El... Street. They had three or four other people with them. I didn’t get all their names.”“I see. Thank you.”“They won’t talk to you,” said Gracie.“We’ll see,” said Mindy. “Have fun with Horace. I assume you’ll let me know if any other citizens come forward to complain about me?”“I hope I don’t have to,” sighed the woman.“I hope you don’t have to, either,” said. Freddie Clegg tightened the rope that held Mademoiselle Louise Barchant to the solid wooden chair on which she was seated, ignoring the gagged groans of Louise and those of her friend Annette Coursonne as she struggled against her own restraints. Clegg fussed at each knot, checking the tension of the rope, the lay of the cords, the way in which the ropes wound securely around the limbs of his victim and the rungs and struts of the chair. It was, Clegg, concluded, still the part of his work that. More

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