It was a woman.

Remo hadn't suspected that. But "Jackie" could

be male or female. He should have known that upstairs would forget to tell him about a minor point like that.

It didn't bother him. He had killed women before.

"Where's Arnie and Billy?" she asked.

"Dead," he said.

She was too busy looking into his eyes and smiling to hear him. She sat in the chair across from him. "When will they be back?"

She was pretty. Green eyes, auburn hair, good breasts, and a clean-well-washed smell.

"What are you doing with that sheet?" she asked, pointing to the paper in front of Remo.

"Arnie gave it to me," Remo said. "What day do you have?"

"Eighteenth," she said. "Tomorrow. Guess Til have to pull a plug," she said with a smile. "What'd you say happened to Arnie and Billy?"

"Ask them yourself," Remo said. Her eyes widened as he unplugged her windpipe. Her eyes really were a pretty green.

He dumped her into the coat closet with the two men, and stood back to savor his handiwork.

"That's the lottery biz, sweethearts," he said and slammed the door.

He waved to the peppermint striper on his way out, dumped his whites into a laundry bin, waved to the older nurse at the front desk and left the hospital.

The terminal cases could now terminate on their own. It made Remo feel good.

But not for long.

He had other assignments that night.

18

CHAPTER THREE

Elmo Wimpler had been frightened of becoming a burglar but he was more frightened of starving to death, penniless, unknown, friendless.

He had waited until late night, and then had donned his black uniform. He turned out the lights over his front door, then stepped out into his yard.

He looked down at himself. He could barely see the outline of his feet and legs. He understood that he was slightly visible in silhouette because of the lights reflecting around the street. He would have to remember that he was most effective in pitch darkness.