“What?” Kerrigan said. “What are you talking about?”
“This situation here,” Mooney murmured. He was looking down at the bloodstains. “I’ve seen you in this alley more times than I can count. Of course, it ain’t none of my business—”
“All right, let’s drop it.”
“You won’t drop it.”
“I’m dropping it now. It’s a dead issue.”
“The hell it is. You’ll come here again. You’ll keep coming here.”
“If I do, I’m a damn fool,” Kerrigan said.
“I wouldn’t say that.” Mooney spoke very quietly, almost in a whisper. “I’ve never had you checked off as a damn fool.”
For a long moment they stood there looking at each other. Then Mooney said, “You come here to investigate.”
“There’s nothing to investigate,” Kerrigan said. But while he said it, he was making a careful study of Mooney’s face, especially the eyes. He went on, trying to speak casually. “She did away with herself. There’s no question about that. She picked up a rusty blade and cut her throat and then she laid down to die. So the point is, she did it with her own hands. I’m not trying to take it past that.”