The cop handed him a card. “I’m Detective Hart, with Metro D.C. homicide. You own a gray Honda Accord, is that correct?”

“Yes. But as far as I know, it hasn’t killed anyone.” Clever boy. Be amusing, disarming. Smile that perfect smile.

The cop had dropped eye contact now, was looking past Beauty’s body, trying to see inside. “Ha-ha. That’s pretty funny. Can I come in, Mr. Pryce?”

Beauty simply did not know what to do. If they wanted to search the house, he was screwed. The cop wasn’t putting off any vibes, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know. No, he didn’t. Beauty was safe. Of course he was. So careful, always so very careful.

He wanted to dance a little jig, but stopped himself. He must act accordingly.

“Goodness, forgive me. Of course. Please, come in.” He opened the door farther, gestured for the cop to come in. “Can I get you a drink?” And pour Drano in it so you’ll turn into a choking mass of blue on my living room floor?

Now, now. No need to get aggressive, cher.

“Thank you,” Hart said.

He got the cop situated on the couch, handed him a glass of water. “So, how can I help you, Detective? My car was being naughty, I take it?”

“You were in Georgetown yesterday.” It wasn’t a question.

Go careful. Maybe they do know something. “Mmm-hmm?”

“Can I ask what you were doing?”

“In Georgetown? Nothing terribly exciting, I’m afraid. I was having dinner. A little place called the Tombs. Have you been there? I’ve always loved the food, the atmosphere—” he leaned forward, conspiratorially, winked “—the coeds.”

Detective Hart didn’t look surprised. “Girl watching? Aren’t the college girls too young for you?”

“Not at all. What’s the rule—half your age plus seven? They’re well within the bounds. Well, the freshmen might be a little young. Now, tell me. What is this all about?”

“Did you go straight home after dinner, Mr. Pryce, or did you go elsewhere?”

Beauty gave him a frank look.

“Not...exactly. I met...a friend.” He made an unmistakably lewd gesture with his hands, and the cop caught on.

“I see. I’m not here to make trouble for you, Mr. Pryce. What you did or didn’t do was your own affair, though I’d advise you to be careful. We do run stings, and it can be very embarrassing for those men caught with the wrong sort of girl.”

“I understand. Thank you for letting me know. I’d hate to get anyone in trouble.”

“Noted. You drove past a crime scene at approximately twelve-thirty this morning. We were hoping you might have seen something.”

“I did? How gruesome. Where was it?”

“On O Street. Almost to Wisconsin. If you were coming from the Tombs, heading out here to Falls Church, I’d expect you to go a different route.”

“And yet, I’ve just made it clear I wasn’t headed home after dinner. On the contrary, I drove down to the Mall, parked and took a moonlight stroll. I certainly don’t recall seeing anything out of the ordinary on the drive. Can you be more specific—what might I have seen?”

Detective Hart smiled. He had cold eyes, Beauty thought, cold and shrewd. They belied his demeanor, and his physique.

“Can’t tell you that, sir. I don’t want to taint your testimony, should it come to a trial. Just take a moment, think about what you saw when you left the restaurant. People on the street, cars, sounds. Anything might help.”

Beauty closed his eyes, envisioning the drive. He hadn’t exactly been coming from the Tombs. Rather, he had, but he’d circled the block four times, watching until the light went off in the little wren’s house.

His eyes popped open. “How did you know I was there?”

The cop smiled. “Cameras. All over the streets down there. Gotta keep the coeds safe.”

So they knew he’d been around the block a few times, damn them. Lying wasn’t an option.

“I’m sorry, Detective. I can’t remember anything out of place. It was dark, I’d had a drink. I was...looking to hang out with someone. I didn’t see anything of interest, if you will, in Georgetown. Which is why I headed farther into the city, in hopes of finding something a bit more to my liking.”

“What about the ordinary? It was late, but were there people about? Any neighbors walking their dogs, any people at all?”

Give him something and get him the hell out of here.

He’d seen quite a bit that night, watching, but he didn’t think the cop would appreciate those details. He turned inward, mentally replayed his loops around the neighborhood. It truly had been quiet, with few people around. “I saw a woman jogging, and two young girls—they looked like they were still in high school—standing on the corner of N and Wisconsin. Other than that, I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

“Which direction was the jogger going?”

“Toward M Street. She had reflective clothing on, she was easy to see. I didn’t notice a face.”

He gave his most charming smile and flexed the business card in his hand. He’d been gripping it so tightly his knuckle popped. “If I think of anything else that seemed out of place, I will absolutely give you a call.”

Detective Hart nodded and stood. “Thank you, Mr. Pryce. I appreciate you being honest with me about what you were doing. It helps explain why you drove past the crime scene so many times that night.”

Beauty gave him a thin smile. “Yes, well. World’s oldest profession.”

“Indeed.” Hart didn’t offer to shake hands, and Beauty was glad; his own was as wet as if he’d poured the glass of water over it. “Well, anything that comes to you, sir, please let me know. I’ll see myself out.”

Beauty watched him go, latched the door behind him. Moved quickly to the window, waited for the damn man to drive away and his minions to follow. Ran cold fingers along the gun at his back. So glad. So glad he hadn’t overreacted.

But now he had to move, and move fast. The cop hadn’t believed him. And he couldn’t run the risk of anyone finding out what he was really doing.

It was time to move on.

The bedroom was small, the closet claustrophobic. He opened the door to see the real Toliver Pryce—a decent-looking man under normal circumstances, not quite as handsome as Beauty, but close enough to trick the cop—staring at him, his eyes wide, pleading, the gag in his mouth cutting into the soft flesh in the corners, his teeth comically bared.

“What shall we do with you, my friend?” Beauty murmured.

Pryce moaned against the gag, thrashed a bit. It didn’t last long. He was tiring. He’d been in the closet for nearly two days now with no food or water. Beauty could just leave him there and he’d probably pass in another day or two, but he didn’t think he could take the chance.

“No, I’m sorry. I can’t let you go. I’m afraid it’s time for you to meet your Maker.” He flourished the gun, and pulled a knife out of a sheath that was secreted inside his pants. “Which shall it be? A bullet or the blade?”

Pryce became hysterical.

In the end, the blade was necessary. Beauty was careful not to splash blood on himself. When it was done, he stripped off his clothes and gloves while Pryce bled to death on his closet floor.

The adrenaline, the rush, the pure, unadulterated joy he derived from the fear on Pryce’s face, would last him for weeks. He hoped. Freshly dressed, packed and ready to move on, Beauty picked up the phone with shaking hands. It took two tries to dial the number.

A thin voice answered. “US Marshal’s office. How may I direct your call?”

“Extension 467 please.”

A click, then a hearty, “Hello, Sauger here.”

Beauty breathed a sigh of relief; he’d caught him in the office. Good. They could make things happen immediately. They’d done it before.

“Edward? Long time no talk.”

“You son of a bitch. Where the fuck are you?”

“Now, now. There’s no reason to resort to vulgarities. I had some business to attend to. Unfortunately, in the course of said business, I happened to come across the radar of a police detective in Washington, D.C.”