Kasey swore, knowing his face had paled despite himself. “Nothing but a deuced coincidence. I’ve had many mistresses in my keeping over the years—I never said I was a monk—and simple odds could favor one or two suffering some misfortune. I know three have married, and I paid the funeral expenses of another, months after we parted company. She died of a lung congestion, incidentally. I am certain many more of them have moved away. It’s inherent in their occupation, the fickleness of men’s tastes, the passage of time and beauty.” Dimm took a pipe out of another pocket. He didn’t ask if he could light it, and Kasey did not offer. The officer chewed on the stem a bit, then said, “Funny things, coincidences. In my line of work they’re nasty, naggy nuisances, they are. Don’t let a man sleep of nights, you see.” He tapped the pipe against his knee. “Now I’ve got two missing ladies what pleasured the same man, a man what won’t tell us where he’s been and won’t let us see for ourselves.
