"Doc Prouty figures forty-eight to sixty hours ago."
"I'll be able to give you a better figure after the post," the Medical Examiner said without looking up from his work.
A tall, big-nosed man in plain-clothes suddenly turned away from the scene on the table, his mouth moving queerly, his eyes hard. After a moment, his lips relaxed. Still staring at the wall, he said: "I guess the case is out of Federal jurisdiction, then. We'll co-operate, as usual, of course." He looked at me. "Could I talk to you outside, Inspector Royall?"
I looked at Kleek. "O.K., Sam?" I didn't have to have his O.K.; it was just professional courtesy. He knew I'd tell him whatever it was that the FBI man had to say, and we both knew why the Federal agent wanted to leave.
Sam Kleek nodded. "Sure. I'll keep an eye out here."
The FBI man followed me into the outer room.
"Do you figure this as a sex-degenerate case, Inspector?" he asked.
"Looks like it. You saw the bruises. Dr. Prouty will be able to tell us for sure after the post mortem."
He shook his head as if to clear it of a bad memory. "You New York police can sure be cold-blooded at times."