“With a serial killer? Is that a good idea?”

I stood up and stretched, wondering whom I’d have to sleep with to get a fresh cup of coffee. “ ‘Is that a good idea?’ hasn’t really been the touchstone question of my life.”

We were well on our way to a solid and surprisingly useful profile when we were interrupted by O’Bannon’s secretary, Madeline. She looked put out, probably because she’d had to walk across the station to deliver the message herself-Granger hadn’t given me a phone.

“O’Bannon wants to see you. Right now.”

As if she thought I might keep the man waiting for an hour or so. Maybe stroll down to the pub and have a few drinks first. Whatever-I didn’t have to look at the woman to see that she had it in for me. So I obediently pushed myself off the Naugahyde and headed for O’Bannon’s office. I was almost there when I was accosted by an attractive middle-aged woman with large red spectacles and a neatly tailored suit. I didn’t have to look at the label to know it hadn’t come off the rack. And I didn’t need an introduction to know who she was.

“Are you Susan Pulaski?” she asked.

Moments like this, one has to wonder about the wisdom of the saying “Honesty is the best policy.” “I am.”

“I’m Fara Spencer. The mother of Annabel Spencer. She was-”

“I know who she was,” I said, sparing her the explanation. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks, but that really isn’t good enough. I want to catch the bastard who did this.”

“We all do, ma’am.”

“That’s what I keep hearing, but as far as I can tell, no one is doing anything.”

“I can assure you-”

“I have some serious complaints about the way this investigation is being handled.”

I tried to edge past her, but she wasn’t budging. “Any complaints should be directed to Lieutenant Granger. It’s his case.”

“My understanding is that he’s essentially a supervisor. All my sources tell me that in a case such as this, a proper psychological analysis is critical to catching the killer. And that’s your department, right?”

“I’m also working with-”

“So let me be blunt, Ms. Pulaski. Do you think you’re up to this?”

Every joint in my body stiffened. “I’ve been working as a behaviorist for over-”

“I’m aware of that. I’m also aware that you were recently fired and have not been reinstated. I know about your personal problems. As well as the… addiction that led to your hospitalization.”

“You’re terribly well informed, aren’t you?”

“In my business, it’s essential.”

“Well, in my business, it’s essential to know what the hell you’re talking about. We’re running a first-rate investi-”

“I’ve had recovering alcoholics on my show, Ms. Pulaski, as well as experts in the field of substance abuse. And I know you can’t just square your shoulders and be cured a week after you go into rehab.”

“It was detox, not-”

“Frankly, I’m appalled to think that a critical role in the apprehension of my daughter’s killer has been relegated to someone who only weeks before was suffering paranoid alcohol-infused delusions and behaving in a violent and psychopathic manner.”

“We don’t say psychopathic anymore,” I told her through clenched teeth. “I’m surprised all those experts on your show haven’t told you that.”

“My point, Lieutenant Pulaski, if indeed it is still appropriate to refer to you as a lieutenant, is that you have no business working on this case. I want you to resign so that someone better qualified can take your place.”

All right then, the gloves were off. “Ms. Spencer, this isn’t some daytime TV show dispensing feel-good bullshit to bored housewives. This is reality. And the reality is, I’m good at what I do. You’re not going to find a replacement who does any better.”

“I find that very difficult to believe. Your judgment is clouded.”

“Ma’am, don’t talk to me about clouded judgment. With all due respect, I’m not the one who just lost her only daughter. In every case of this nature we have grieving parents, and they are almost always obstacles, not assistants. We put up with it because we are service-oriented professionals and we realize that dealing with the death of a loved one is difficult.”

“Certainly you’re a testament to that,” she said dryly.

I sucked it in, showing a degree of restraint that surprised even me. “My point is, we’re doing everything we can to catch the killer and we will continue to do so. If you’re not going to help, get the hell out of the way!” I pushed her aside and marched on toward O’Bannon’s office.

“You haven’t heard the last of this,” she shouted after me, confirming what I already knew all too well. “I’m not that easily brushed off.”

I entered O’Bannon’s office and slammed the door behind me. He was sitting at his desk, pretending to rifle through some papers, but really just marking time till I arrived.

And to my surprise, Darcy was there, too, sitting in a chair just behind him.

“Hey, Darce,” I said, wiggling my fingers. “How’s my main man?”

He blinked. “Did you know that coffee is the second largest trade commodity in the world market? Americans consume more coffee than the inhabitants of any other nation on earth.”

“It’s my fault. I skew the average.” I turned my attention to the boss. “What’s up, Chief?”

“How are you getting along with the Feeb?”

“Swimmingly.”

“No complaints? On either side?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” I looked at him. “You seem somewhat incredulous.”

“I’m glad to hear you’ve finally learned to play well with other children.”

“So what’s Darcy doing here?”

O’Bannon squirmed slightly. Not physically; he was too savvy for that. But I saw it, just the same. “He… asked to come. He wanted to see you.”

I smiled. “No new developments today, Darce. No more crime scenes.”

“Nonetheless, he… wanted to be involved.”

“Okay by me. But Granger apparently has a problem-”

“I’ll speak to Granger. He’s pissed at me already because of the press conference.”

“We’re doing a press conference? I thought you hated-”

“We don’t have any choice. Do you realize how much attention this case has been getting?”

“I’ve seen the local papers.”

“It’s not just local. It’s everywhere. Only thing worse than a serial killer is a serial killer during a slow news week. I guess it’s to be expected-this case gets weirder and weirder every day. The press has a million questions about the Poe connection. And now we’ve got a beloved television celebrity involved. We’re the lead story on CNN Headline News, for God’s sake.”

“So if the press is all over it already, why hold a conference?”

“We’ve got to do something. Tourism is down dramatically. People are canceling their vacations. I guess no one wants to gamble badly enough to risk being buried alive. Or bled to death.”

“But unless they’re young women-”

“Which is one thing we need to explain. But the main chore will be to convince everyone that we’re working hard and we have substantial leads.”

“We do?”

He ignored me. “I’ve got the Chamber of Commerce breathing down my neck, Susan. The mayor. The hotel commission. We need to put on a dog-and-pony show.”

“Okay. So Granger is traumatized because he has to go before the press?”

O’Bannon’s eyes drifted down to his desk. “Granger isn’t doing it. You are.”

“Me? But he’s-”

“You know as well as I do that once those reporters get going with Granger he’ll come off looking like a doofus. He’s a good cop, but quick wit isn’t his specialty. Besides, what does he have to tell them? The only person who’s come up with anything useful is you.”

“And Darcy. But what if the press hassles me about my recent demotion to consultant status?”

“Tell them it’s none of their damn business. Stick to the case.”

“But-”

“Don’t bother arguing. You’re doing it. Unless you’d like me to terminate that consulting agreement.”