Death of a Blue Movie Star

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Authors: Jeffery Deaver
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gone?”
    Healy stared at the bricks. He asked, “Did you see a flash?”
    “A flash? Yeah.”
    “What color was it?”
    “I don’t remember. Red or orange, I guess.”
    He said, “Did you feel a chemical irritation, like tear gas or anything?”
    “It smelled pretty bad but I don’t think so.”
    “No one threw anything through the window?”
    “Like a hand grenade?”
    “Like anything,” he said.
    “No. Shelly called out the window, asked me a question. Then she went to make a phone call. It blew up a minute later. Less, maybe.”
    “Phone call?”
    “She got a message that she was supposed to call someone. The guard might know who. But I’m sure the detectives talked to him.”
    Healy was frowning. He said in a soft voice, “They sent the guard home. He didn’t know anything and didn’t say anything about a message. Or the detectives
said
he didn’t. Hey, wait here a minute, okay?”
    He was walking back to the station wagon on his long legs. He spoke on the radio for a few minutes. She saw him put the receiver back on the dash. A young officer came up to him and handed him a plastic bag.
    When he returned to Rune she said, “Second angel?”
    He gave a surprised laugh.
    “I was looking over your shoulder last week.”
    He nodded. Then debated and showed her the plastic sleeve.
    The second angel blew his trumpet, and a great mountain, burning with fire, was thrown into the sea, and a third of the sea became blood
….
     
    This too was from the Sword of Jesus. He slipped it into his attaché case.
    Rune said, “What I was asking a minute ago—where is everybody? You’re almost the only cop left.”
    “Ah, the word has come down.” Healy looked at the crater again.
    “Word?”
    He nodded toward the smoking building. “If, say, a cop’d been killed in there. Or a kid or a nun or pregnant lady, well, there’d be a hundred cops and FBI here right now.” He looked at her, the kind of glance parents give their kids during birds-and-bees lectures to see if the message is getting across.
    It didn’t seem to be and Healy said, “The word is we’re not supposed to waste too much time on people like this. In the porn industry. Understand?”
    “That’s ridiculous.” Rune’s eyes flashed. “What about those people in the theater? Don’t you care about them?”
    “We care. We just don’t care too much. And you want to know the truth about the patrons at the Velvet Venus? A couple of them were innocent bystanders, sure. But two were wanted on drug charges, one was a convicted felon who jumped parole, one was carrying a ten-inch butcher knife.”
    “And if a nun’d been walking by outside when it went off, or on that sidewalk there, she’d be just as dead as Shelly Lowe.”
    “True. Which’s why I’m saying the we’re not going to
stop
investigating. We’re just not going to waste resources.”
    Rune was spinning the silver bracelet on her wrist. “You talk like Shelly wasn’t a real person. She was, and somebody killed her.”
    “I’m not saying I feel that way.”
    “Would it give you any more incentive if you knew she was trying to get out of the business?”
    “Rune—”
    “Somebody kills you and it’s a crime. Somebody kills Shelly Lowe and it’s urban renewal. That sucks.”
    A Fire Department inspector walked up to them, larger than life in his black-and-yellow gear. “We’re going to have to put supports in before anybody can go up, Sam.”
    “I’ve got to do the postblast.”
    “Have to wait till tomorrow.”
    “I wanted to finish up tonight.”
    Rune walked away. “Sure, he wants to take five minutes or so and look for clues.”
    “Rune.”
    “… then get back to protecting nuns.”
    Healy called after her. “Wait.” The voice was commanding.
    She kept going.
    “Please.”
    She slowed.
    “I want to ask you some questions.”
    She stopped and turned to him and she knew that he could see her thick tears in the swinging glare of the fire-truck lights. She

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