"I guess you gave her a message for the Feebies a while back," Karl said. "Something about finding out who owns the People's Voice?"

  "Yeah, but we found out later that it's the Church, just like I figured. Commando boy told Lacey, remember?"

  "Louise didn't know that. She tried to give your message to the Feebies when they came through, but she said they went right by her, like she hadn't said anything. The way she put it to me was, 'Guess the bimbo in the tight dress wasn't worth their attention.' So she got mad."

  "Guess that makes it unanimous," I said. "Everybody's pissed at the FBI these days. So, what did she do?"

  "She checked it out for herself," Karl said, "when things were slow around the squad. Louise is persistent, especially when she has something to prove. She went from one holding company to the next, to the next. All dummy corporations."

  "And she found out that the Church owns the paper," I said.

  "No, I guess that's not on any public record. She got as far as something called 'Crossman Investments, Inc.' Couldn't find anything else about them."

  "So, how does that get you and Christine to the warehouse in time to save my butt?"

  "When you didn't show up for work, McGuire told me to find you – which I would've done, anyway. Called the Radisson, called your cell, even called the landline at your house. When that got me nowhere, I even called Christine at work and asked if she'd heard from you."

  "Which, since I hadn't, managed to scare me shitless," Christine said. "I made Karl promise to call me back as soon as he learned something."

  "It was pretty clear that something nasty had happened," he said. "The Church had either killed you, or grabbed you. I couldn't do anything about the first possibility, so I focused on the second one. Then I started thinking about warehouses. It'd be just like those fuckers to have you slaughtered in front of their cameras."

  Another nurse showed up at the door and called a name that wasn't mine.

  "Once Louise realized what I was doing, she told me about Crossman Investments, Inc.," Karl said. "After thinking about that for a minute, I actually made a fucking deduction – Sherlock Holmes would be proud of me."

  "Go on, Great Detective," I said. "Show us how you did it."

  Karl said, "We knew that the Church owned the People's Voice, right? But what Louise showed me was that in the official records, the paper was owned by Crossman Investments. So I wondered what other properties in town had Crossman Investments as the owner of record."

  "Fantastic, Mister Holmes," I said. "I mean it – that was fucking brilliant, Karl."

  "Thanks, but it still didn't get us an actual address. And the property records aren't computerized."

  "They're all in the courthouse basement, right?"

  "Yeah," he said, "and the office was closed for the night."

  "Ouch," I said. "Still, the fact that I'm still breathing means you must've figured something out."

  "I told McGuire, and he called the mayor direct, instead of going through channels. He said the life of one of his best officers was in danger, and we needed to get at those records, pronto."

  "He really said that?" I asked. "One of his best officers?"

  "Yeah, he wanted to make the strongest case possible, so he exaggerated a little."

  I was going to whack him for that, but Christine beat me to it with a punch on the arm.

  "Ow!" Karl said. "OK, so the mayor sent somebody over to open up the room where they keep the property records. You got any idea how many books that stuff takes up?"

  "Um – lots?" I said.

  "Fuckin' A. And it's organized chronologically, by date of sale – not alphabetically."

  "Yikes," I said. "So what did you do?"

  "Got some help. McGuire assigned Aquilina and Sefchik to pitch in, and Louise volunteered to take some personal time and help, too."

  "Louise seems like a very nice lady," Christine said. "I think she's got a thing for you, too." She shook her head. "My old man, the sex object. Jeez!"

  "Wait – how'd you get to meet Louise?" I asked her.

  "I called Christine, just like she told me to," Karl said. "When I explained where things stood, she said she'd be at the property records office in five minutes."

  "I'm pretty sure I made it in four," Christine said. "Don't tell the cops, but I ran a couple of red lights."

  "All those people, busting their ass to save mine," I said. "I'm touched." My voice contained no sarcasm, because I intended none.

  "It was about ten after midnight when Louise came across a listing that said Crossman Investments had bought a property three years ago, at 647 Montgomery Avenue – a warehouse."

  "Is that where it was?" I said. "I didn't pay any attention to the address when I was leaving – had other things on my mind, I guess."

  "We knew that the Church liked to do their summonings at midnight," Karl said. "So I asked the others to keep looking, in case Crossman owned more than one warehouse. Christine and I hit the vampire afterburners and got over there. Once I saw you were inside, I called McGuire and told him. You know the rest."

  I sat there quietly for a while, thinking about how close I had come to dying in the ugliest way possible. And if it weren't for my friends and my little girl, I would have. Good thing I'm such a tough guy, or I might've even cried a little.

  "What's wrong, Daddy?" Christine asked me.

  "Ah, it's just my allergies acting up again," I said, blowing my nose.

  A few minutes later, a nurse came to the door and said the sweetest thing I've heard a woman say in quite some time.

  "Stanley Markowski!"

A doctor at Mercy's ER treated my burn – which she described as "second degree" – bandaged it, told me to see my family physician, and gave me some pills for the pain.