The Ninth Man by Dorien Grey Read Free Book Online

much easier.
    “But let me think… Of course! Of course! I recognize them now. The police asked me if Bobby knew them…or most of them, I think. I’m afraid I wasn’t exactly in my best form that day. Still, some of them do ring a bell, if only I could remember.
    “Who are these people, anyway? Some of Bobby’s tricks?” He let out a small, dramatic gasp. “Do you suppose they could be suspects?”
    “I doubt that very much,” I said honestly. “As to whether any of them were Bobby’s tricks, I couldn’t say, but I’ll be sure to check that out. I just thought you might know some of them.”
    “I really do wish I could help you, but as I say, I’m just terrible at remembering names. I remember…shall we say, other things?” He giggled—just a tad hysterically, I thought.
    “Well,” I said, in an effort to cut off the giggles if nothing else, “try to remember if you can, and call me at the office” (I hoped he got that, but doubted it) “as soon as you do. It might be important.”
    “Oh, I will. I will! Just as soon as I can think of it. I’ve really enjoyed talking with you, Mr. Hardesty. It’s so nice to have someone you can really talk to, don’t you think?”
    “Yes, that’s what my lover always says.”
    “Oh…yes…I’d forgotten you were married. Well, I hope I didn’t interrupt anything…” This time it was a snigger.
    “Not at all,” I assured him. “We were just getting ready for bed.” I don’t like lying, but having an imaginary lover was going to be a necessity as long as Rholfing was on the prowl.
    “Well, goodnight, then. And you will be sure to keep in touch?” Again the seductive tone.
    “Of course. And you be sure to call my office whenever you remember anything. If I’m not there, just leave a message with the service, and I’ll get back to you. Goodnight.” I hung up before he could drag the conversation out any longer.
    I turned out the light, went back to bed, and mentally smoked a cigarette. Imagining you’re smoking a cigarette is sort of like masturbation—it’s better than nothing, but not much.
    There was, I was sure now, some definite connection between Bobby McDermott and the other victims, something other than their being gay. And if there was a link, that pretty much ruled out a random serial killer, which might make finding out who did it a little easier.
    It still meant that I was, by trying to find out who killed Bobby McDermott, in effect out to solve six murders. That disturbing hunch I was getting into something a lot more than I’d bargained for returned, and I was now more than sure I wasn’t too happy about it.
    I could have spent the rest of the night pondering the possibilities but decided to take a tip from Rhett Butler’s girlfriend and worry about it tomorrow. Having made that decision, I tossed and turned for all of ten seconds before falling into a deep and Technicolor dream sleep.
    *
    The alarm clock in my head went off at exactly six- thirty, as usual. I lay in bed for a few minutes while my thoughts and various parts of my consciousness wandered in from wherever they’d been overnight and took their places in my mind. When most of them were present and accounted for, I got up, showered, shaved, brushed my teeth, and went through all the exciting rituals that make up a morning. I’d remembered to set the timer on the coffee maker before I’d gone to bed, so there was a hot pot waiting for me when I finally staggered into the kitchen.
    The first order of business, once I was fairly certain I could talk coherently, was to try to reach the numbers of the roommates/lovers Tim had given me. It was about 8:10, and I might have a chance to catch some of them before they left for work.
    There were three Gary Millers in the phone book, but only one on Partridge Place. Gary Miller was the one Tim had been so taken with, and when the phone was answered on the first ring, I could understand why. The voice was the stuff of which wet