"Sure," Karl said. "And there's only one way for the wolf to get here – right up that ramp. Talk about shooting fish in a barrel."

  "So the wolf comes bounding up the ramp," I said, "and the killer's waiting, maybe sitting or lying down. Just him and his piece, loaded with silver."

  "That's what I'm thinking," Karl said. "So the guy shoots the wolf, who dies and transforms back to human. Then the killer heaves the goat over the railing, steps over both blood pools real careful like, then walks down – and out."

  "Why not do the same with the vic?" Scanlon said. "That way, he might not be found for days, even weeks. Which would give the perp lots of time to set up an alibi, or even leave town."

  We stood there in silence until I broke it by saying, "He didn't throw the body over, because he wanted it to be found. He wanted us to know that somebody killed a werewolf here tonight."

  "Why the fuck would anybody do that?" Scanlon asked.

  "As a step in bringing on Helter Skelter." They both looked at me as if I'd grown a second head. I took a deep breath and let it out. "I had a conversation earlier today with a guy. I haven't had time to tell you about it, but it's time I did."

It was Karl's turn to drive, but he didn't start the car when I slipped into the seat next to him. Instead, he turned and looked at me.

  "If somebody hadn't offed a werewolf tonight, were you ever gonna tell me about the little talk you had with Pettigrew?"

  "I started to tell you about it as soon as I got to the squad room tonight, remember? Then McGuire gave us this thing to deal with. I could've mentioned it in the car on the way over, but it's a short trip and I knew I wouldn't have the chance to finish before we got to the park. And I wanted to make sure you got the whole story at once, not just a piece of it."

  After a couple of moments he nodded. "OK, I remember you sitting down next to me when you came in. And then McGuire comes out of his office, and it's Who else am I gonna give it to?"

  His impression of McGuire was really terrible, but I thought this wasn't a good time to mention it.

  "OK, that answers one question, Stan, but here's another one. How come you went to see that fuckface Pettigrew without me?"

  "It's like I started to tell you back at the squad," I said. "I've got a problem with Christine and I don't know how I want to deal with it yet. So I got out of the house before she was up."

  "Yeah, all right, you wanted to leave early and avoid Christine. But that doesn't explain Pettigrew, Stan. You could've taken in a movie, or maybe stopped off for coffee someplace. Nothing says you had to go see Mister Master Race by yourself."

  "You just showed why I did it."

  Karl blinked a few times. "What the fuck does that mean?"

  "The 'master race' thing. Going to see Pettigrew was a spur of the moment decision, OK? But it did occur to me that having a conversation with him would probably go smoother without the two of you growling at each other like a couple of pit bulls."

  "I'm your partner, dammit, you should've–"

  I held up a hand that stopped him mid-sentence. "Karl, let me ask you something. Say we needed some info on a case from a real hard-ass vampire, the kind who thinks the only thing humans are good for is lunch, OK? In a situation like that, would you consider – would you at least think about – asking me to wait in the car while you went and talked to the dude?"

  Karl looked at me for what I guessed was a slow count of three. Then he nodded, faced front, and turned the ignition key.

  "So, where we goin'?" he asked.

  "Time to go see a wizard about a rug."

The establishment calling itself Magic Carpets, Mystic Rugs was located on the western edge of downtown, on the last commercially zoned street before the residential section began. The place was located a few doors down from 3 Witches' Bakery, which is where we found a parking space. I'd never been inside the place, but remembered hearing their commercial jingle on the radio – "Nothin' says lovin' like something from the coven." I was glad they were closed. It's hard to resist a bakery, and I eat enough junk food as it is.

  There were a couple of those newspaper vending boxes in front of 3 Witches – the kind where you put in your fifty cents and pull out a paper. The vendors said it worked on the honor system, but I think it was more a recognition that nobody would want more than a single copy of one of those rags.

  The Times-Tribune's headline was about our latest political scandal:

JUDGE INDICTED IN

REFORM-SCHOOL SCAM

  In the adjoining machine, that new tabloid, the People's Voice, was using three-inch tall letters to announce:

VATICAN TO AMERICA: GO TO HELL!

  I thought I knew what that was about. Some bigwig cardinal over in Rome had said, where a reporter could hear him, that he'd be just as happy if North America sank into the sea, taking the population with it.

  I don't take a lot of interest in religious politics – and if you think that term's an oxymoron, welcome to the twentyfirst century. But even I knew that the big guys in Rome have a love-hate relationship with North America, especially the USA. On the one hand, we're a big, affluent country with lots of Catholics – and a percentage of the money being dropped into all those collection plates every Sunday finds its way into the Vatican's coffers. Without America, they'd probably go broke.

  But American Catholics don't always toe the party line real well. The Church says contraception's a sin, except for the rhythm method. You can always tell couples who use that approach, by the way – they usually have twelve kids. But the stats show that in the USA, Catholics use artificial birth control about as often as the rest of the population, which I'm sure pisses off the pope no end. And there are some Catholic priests who care more about social justice than the law, like the Brannigan brothers, who were always getting arrested a few years back for protesting the war in Transylvania.

  So I wasn't exactly amazed to hear that there's some frustration in Rome about us, and only a little surprised that some cardinal would be indiscreet about it. But it wasn't what I'd call a big news story. The Times-Tribune had carried it last week, on page 12, I think. If the People's Voice thought they were going to make money attacking the Vatican in heavily Catholic Scranton, they were in for a hard lesson in both faith and economics.