They drank the first glass of wine.
"Technician," George said, "we have to ask you some questions. We'll try not to upset you."
The girl closed her eyes. "I'll try not to be upset. I hope you find whoever killed him. I'd like to find her."
The girl felt lonely. She ached with unsatisfied needs. I'd like to lie with you and comfort you, Sordman thought. I'd like to hold you in my arms and drain all the tears you're holding back. But he couldn't. His contract with his wife had six months to run and no one committed adultery any more. "When the rules are carefully tailored to human needs," Lee often said, "there's no excuse for breaking them."
"Why 'her'?" Lee asked. "Why 'her' instead of 'him'?"
The girl looked at Sordman. "Can't you just probe my mind? Do I have to answer questions?"
"I'm afraid so," Sordman said. "My Talent has its limits. I can't deep-probe everybody's mind, any more than a baseball pitcher can pitch all day."
Lee said, "Even if he could, our warrant says we can't probe more than four suspects."
"Now can you tell us why you think the killer is a woman?" George asked.