“I knew who he was, of course.”

“Did you ever retain his services?” DeeDee asked.

“What an absurd notion, even for you, Detective Bowen.”

“Why absurd?”

“Why would I hire a private investigator with limited resources and skills?”

“When you have people on your payroll who do that kind of dirty work for you.”

Savich said nothing.

DeeDee said, “We can question everyone who was in the club that afternoon. Someone will remember that meeting between you and the judge’s wife.”

Savich smiled at her veiled threat. Balancing his cigarette in a crystal ashtray, he opened his lap drawer and withdrew a business card, then slid it across the desk toward her. “There was no such meeting. Your snitch is lying. However, if you insist on wasting everyone’s time, I can guarantee the full cooperation of the manager of the White Tie and Tails.

“That’s his card with his phone number, fax number, and e-mail address. Kenny also has his private cell phone number. You can ask for it on your way out.” Having called her bluff, he stood up. “Now, you’ll have to excuse me. I’m late for a business meeting.”

Neither of the detectives moved. Finally DeeDee turned her head. “ Duncan?”

He was engaged in a staring duel with the criminal. “Meet me outside.”

She stood up, but hesitated. “Are you-”

“I’ll be right there.”

She hesitated a moment longer, then reluctantly walked out. Kenny said something to her; she responded, matching his bitchy tone.

Duncan didn’t break eye contact with Savich. “I’ll find out, you know. What that meeting with Elise Laird was about. I’ll find out.”

Savich’s eyes glittered as coldly as the diamond in his earlobe. They didn’t change, not even when his lips slowly formed a wide smile. “You seem to have a real fire in your belly for this case, Detective. Even more so than usual. I wonder why that is. Could it be…”

His eyes narrowed to slits. “Do I detect a crack in your armor of righteousness? Could a mere woman have caused that breach? Is snatch your weakness, Detective Sergeant Hatcher?” He made a tsking sound. “How disappointingly ordinary. And how very sad for you that the object of your affection is feared dead.”

He laughed long and loud at Duncan ’s expense. Then, leaning across his desk, he whispered, “Happy hunting.”

Later that afternoon the detectives went to the Chatham County Detention Center and were granted twenty minutes with Gordie Ballew. While his court-appointed attorney stood by, Duncan, feeling the aftereffects of his infuriating meeting with Savich, hammered him with questions about what he’d seen at the topless bar.

Duncan had to learn what business Elise had with Savich. It was important to their investigation, certainly. It was possibly even more important to him.

He bore down on Gordie Ballew. “What were they doing?”

“Talking.”

“Just the two of them?”

“Yeah. Private.” The more nervous Gordie got, the more noticeable his speech impediment became. “In a booth. Like I told you. Like I’ve told you a hunnerd times already.”

He claimed not to have known the blond woman’s identity or realized the significance of her meeting with Savich until he saw Elise Laird’s picture on the front page of the newspaper. “I recognized her right off.”

“Why didn’t you notify us immediately?”

“Took five days to get his sorry ass over here to see me!” Gordie exclaimed, casting a disparaging glance toward the lawyer, who yawned in response.

“You know how bad I want Savich for Freddy Morris and others,” Duncan said.

“Yeah. So?”

“So I think you reconsidered the offer you turned down last week. You made up this bullshit story so you’d have something juicy to bargain with.”

Gordie looked wildly at DeeDee and the lawyer, neither of whom offered him an escape hatch. Coming back to Duncan, he said, “It ain’t like that.”

“Cross your heart and hope to die?”

“I saw her with Savich,” the small man insisted, his nasal voice rising in pitch.

“That’s not the club where you were arrested later that night for assault.”

“Right. I left the White Tie and went to that other place.”

“Savich see you at the White Tie?”

That possibility made him visibly fearful. He squirmed in his seat. “He wasn’t paying no attention to me. I was on the other side of the club, watching the show, one of them girls getting it on with a brass pole.”

“You were skulking in a dark strip joint-”

“What’s skulking?”

“Were you drunk?”

“No.”

“Gor-dee,” Duncan said.

“Okay, okay, I was getting there, but I wasn’t drunk yet.”

“High?”

His eyes darted about evasively, but then he said, “I may have had something. I don’t remember.”

“But you remember the blonde Savich was in conversation with.”

“Yeah.”

“From across a dark nightclub. While you were high and drunk. And days later you conveniently recognized her as Elise Laird.”

Gordie bobbed his head emphatically. “That’s right. What you just said, Hatcher. That’s it in a nutshell.”

Duncan stood up and shoved his chair beneath the table. “You’re full of crap.”

“No! I swear I’m not! Not this time.”

“Why should this time be any different? Oh, wait.” Duncan snapped his fingers. “The reward. That’s the difference.”

“That fifty grand’s got nothing to do with it.”

“Do I look like I was born yesterday?” Duncan shouted. “You heard about the fifty-thousand-dollar reward. You know I want Savich. Bingo. You’ve made up this story and wasted my time, which I have precious little of these days. I have even less patience with lying, sniveling lumps of maggot shit like you, Gordie.”

“Okay, Hatcher, maybe I have lied to you a few times before,” he said, his voice cracking. “But not this time. I swear it, I…Where are you going?” he squealed in panic as Duncan headed for the door.

“We’ll get back to you,” Duncan said over his shoulder as he and DeeDee walked out.

Worley was waiting for them on the other side of the door. “What do you think?”

Duncan expelled a long breath as he thoughtfully watched through the small window as Gordie was escorted from the room by guards. “He’s a habitual liar. But either he’s gotten exceptionally good at it, or he’s telling the truth this time. He’s stuck to his story without changing a word. Let’s give him overnight to fret about it, then come at him again. In the meantime, let’s take this to the judge. See what-”

“Ixnay.” Worley poked a fresh toothpick into his mouth. “No can do, Dunk. Orders from above.”

“What the hell?”

“I knew you’d be pissed. That’s why I put off telling you until after you’d had a crack at Savich and Gordie here, but Captain Gerard said we’re not to confront the judge about his wife’s alleged meeting with Savich.”

DeeDee sputtered, “Are you serious?”

“As death and taxes,” Worley said. “Gerard bounced Gordie’s story off the chief, who practically bounced Gerard out of his office. Through this whole ordeal, they’ve managed to keep a lid on Mrs. Laird’s history as a topless dancer. You can imagine the field day the media would have with that. But an association with Savich would make her G-string days look like Sunday school.”

DeeDee said, “If memory serves, it was Chief Taylor himself who ordered us to use every resource available to solve the mystery of Mrs. Laird’s disappearance, right?”

“I’m only telling you what Gerard told me,” Worley said. “Gerard said that Chief Taylor said that this business about her and Savich was a story from a con trying to create a better bargaining position for himself, and that the judge didn’t need to be made aware of it until we had indisputable proof. He asked what were the chances of Mrs. Laird having anything to do with a criminal like Robert Savich.”

“What were the chances of her having anything to do with Meyer Napoli?” DeeDee really didn’t expect an answer and none was forthcoming. She divided a look between Worley and Duncan, landing on Duncan. “Well? Our hands having been tied, what do we do from here?”