Matt waved and got their attention.

As they came up to the table, Washington lit up like a kid at Christmas.

“That is you, Amanda!” he exclaimed. “How are you, sweetheart?”

Jesus H. Christ! Payne thought as he watched him move around the table to reach her. Does everyone know this woman except me?

And, clearly, love her?

Has she been right there in front of me all these years?

Reminds me of that saying… how’s it go? Oh, yeah.

“If you want to find something, stop looking for it.”

Payne felt Byrth looking at him as Matt stared at Amanda. Payne turned to Byrth, then shrugged and raised his eyebrows to say, Who knew? “I’m well, Jason, thank you very much,” Amanda Law was saying.

She turned her head slightly, holding up her left cheek. Washington gently kissed it.

“And your father?” Washington went on. “How is he?”

“Doing very well. I’m sure if he knew I was here, he would have sent his regards.”

“Please give him mine. It’s been a long time.”

“I will. This is a nice surprise. How is Martha? Please tell her I said hello.”

I’ll be damned! Matt thought. And she’s friendly with Martha Washington, too.

That’s as good as being family!

How the hell have I missed out on this goddess?

A goddess who’s not only obviously very bright and skilled-but one who knows about cops.

I won’t have to try to explain what it is that I do.

And, maybe more important, why it is that I do it.

Unbelievable…

Jason Washington was saying, “My beautiful bride is doing marvelously. She’ll be even more so when I tell her you said hello.”

The Black Buddha turned to Amy Payne and said warmly, “Nice to see you, too, Amy. How are you?”

“Doing pretty good, Jason. Thank you,” she replied pleasantly, then looked at Harris. “Hello, Tony.”

“Hi, Amy.” Harris waved. “Good to see you.”

“Tony,” Jason Washington said, gesturing toward Amanda, “this is Charley Law’s daughter, Amanda. Dr. Amanda Law.”

Harris stepped over and shook her hand.

“Good to meet you, Doctor. I never met your father, but I do know his reputation. He was one helluva detective.”

Amanda Law made a small smile. “That’s kind of you to say.”

“And,” Washington went on, “this is Jim Byrth.”

Byrth stood. Harris held out his hand.

“Tony Harris, Jim. Have heard a bit about you, too. Good to meet you.”

“And you,” Byrth said gripping the hand.

The waitress appeared.

“Impeccable timing!” Jason Washington said, and with his arms extended and his huge hands open, he made the exaggerated fanning motion of a minister telling his congregation to be seated in the pews. “Everyone sit so we can order.”

[TWO] 705 North Second Street, Philadelphia Wednesday, September 9, 6:30 P.M.

“When we got word from our informants that this El Gato had gone ballistic and was whacking drug runners who were in arrears to him,” Byrth was saying to his attentive audience at the table, “we scrambled. But unfortunately not before the psychopath lopped off the heads of two girls, one in Fort Worth’s Northside and one near downtown Houston, last week. Both heads were thrown into packed barrio bars where their family members were known to hang out. The bodies are still missing. Then I figured out that El Gato had fled to Philadelphia. And here I am.”

He drained his Jack Black on the rocks and sighed.

“And now it’s maybe three girls he’s killed.”

He slid the glass on the table. It stopped beside a large bowl of cashews. Another bowl next to it was almost empty of its stick pretzels. Also on the table was a collection of glasses and bottles, the latter consisting of one each Old Bushmills Irish Whiskey, Famous Grouse, Jack Daniel’s, and Concho y Toro Shiraz wine.

“We don’t automatically jump at the term ‘psychopath,’” Dr. Amelia Payne said.

“I do,” Byrth said. “Among other choice words that my manners do not allow to be repeated in such polite company.”

Amy, holding a half-full glass of red wine, said, “The reason we don’t is because psychopathy is the most severe condition. It’s found in only one percent of the population.”

Byrth said, “Doc, with all respect-if it walks like a duck and talks like a duck, it’s a damned duck.”

Amy stared at the Texas Ranger, clearly considering her next words.

Before she could speak, he added, “That, or it’s la folie raisonnante.”

“What the hell is that?” Matt Payne said, reaching for the bottle of wine.

“Impressive,” Amy said, nodding appreciatively.

She smiled at Byrth.

Holding the bottle by its bottom, Matt poured more of the Chilean Shiraz into Dr. Amanda Law’s glass.

Amanda silently mouthed the words “Thank you.”’It was somewhat exaggerated, and Matt saw that it caused the tip of her tongue to linger between her lips for a long moment. His pulse raced.

How do I get a taste of that particular fine vintage?

After a moment, Payne heard his sister clearing her throat, each time more noisily. When he looked in her direction, he saw that she had her arm stretched out and was impatiently rocking her now-empty glass at him.

The Black Buddha, holding in his ball mitt of a hand a golden-colored Bushmills martini, chuckled deeply at the sight.

Matt reached over and refilled his sister’s stem.

Jim Byrth explained, “In 1801, Phillippe Pinel described his patients as la folie raisonnante.”

“Okay, and that means…?” Matt said, returning the bottle to the table and picking up his glass of Famous Grouse.

“ ‘Insane without delirium,’” Byrth explained, looking at him. “Pinel found his patients were not necessarily impaired mentally. Yet they still committed impulsive acts that were harmful to themselves. So he called it ‘insane without delirium.’ ”

Byrth looked at Amy.

“We had a serial killer loose in Texas a few years back. He traveled around by hopping trains, killing near tracks all across the state. I did some research on psychopaths during that, and afterward. Fascinating stuff.” He paused. “I know just enough to be dangerous, Doc.”

He smiled.

She smiled back.

Then she asked, “Would you like me to give you my version?”

“I certainly would,” Detective Anthony Harris said. “But please try to use little words for young Matthew’s sake.”

Dr. Amanda Law laughed out loud.

Matt mock-glared at Tony. With the glass resting in his right palm, he held up his drink in a salute-the middle finger and thumb extended-and said, “Et tu, Brute?”

Harris grinned when he saw that Payne was giving him the bird.

Payne then took a healthy sip and put down the glass.

Amanda reached over and squeezed Matt’s left wrist. “I’m sorry. I really wasn’t laughing at you.”

“Apology accepted,” Matt said, looking in her eyes and smiling.

And as long as you keep touching me, any and every other of your transgressions shall be immediately forgiven.

She pulled back her hand.

Damn!

Amy said, “I’m afraid that’s going to be difficult, Tony, but I’ll try.”

She looked at Matt and feigned a sweet smile. Then she made a toasting motion toward him with her glass, and sipped from it.

Matt felt a vibration in his pants pocket. He pulled out his cell phone and saw that he’d received a text message from Chad Nesbitt.

It read: