"Highlight of my night," Eve said. "You think we can borrow that dog sometime. I'd like to introduce him to Nick."

"Nice."

"Jokes aside, this time, they're gonna book us, Mad."

"Maybe not, if we give them the facts. All of them. Everything we know." I pointed to my head and shook it, to remind her that my visions were off-limits for sharing with cops.

She nodded her understanding. "You think they bug a detective's car?"

"Shut up."

Werner opened the door and got into the driver's seat. "You're lucky you're not in cuffs." He started the engine.

We said nothing.

"Ms. Meyers, the only car we found in the woods belongs to Mrs. McDowell."

"Lolique stole my car!" Eve wailed.

"Worse, she stole my rare Pucci bag. It probably sells for more than your car, because there are less in captivity. Your car you'll get back, but my bag won't be in it." Neither will the councilman's sweater, dammit.

"I thought the designer was Gucci," Werner said, looking in the rearview mirror. "Not Pucci."

I shook my head. "You need to get your Pucci, your Rucci, and your Gucci straight."

"Not if you set me on fire," Werner said, "but maybe I shouldn't be giving the two of you any ideas."

"We're not criminals!"

"Let's see, I've got you for breaking and entering-"

"Entering," Eve said. "Not breaking. They ran so fast, they left the doors open. Check with the alarm company."

We were under a streetlight when Werner nodded imperceptibly, which I wouldn't have noticed, otherwise. "I found you," he continued, "in front of a safe talking about cheating Uncle Sam, and discussing a cape as if it were evidence."

Holy sc.r.a.p! "That was pure spec-"

"Save it for the station."

"This is the station," I pointed out.

"So it is."

They questioned us separately.

For my part, it was easy to answer only the questions I was asked with the bits of truth we'd garnered. What Werner didn't ask, I didn't answer. The hard part was explaining why we'd speculated about embezzling and a cape.

"I can always tell," Werner said as I tried to talk my way around the vision and all it entailed, "when you're talking straight and when you're giving me the runaround."

"We were only speculating about McDowell cheating the government."

"That I believe. But Ms. Meyers mentioned that you had a cape."

"I have a dozen capes. Eve's talking about the one I found in a donation box in front of my shop. Lolique gave those clothes to me. I think they belonged to the late Mrs. McDowell. I liked the cape and I was thinking about keeping it for myself, but I changed my mind. It's at my shop. Do you want it? Really, it isn't evidence. I brought you the quilt and rings, both solid evidence."

Werner relaxed and steepled his hands. "We know who the rings belonged to."

I stilled. "Good. Any leads on the case?"

"What makes you think they had to do with the case?"

"The unidentified bones that were in my storage room were wrapped in the quilt where I found the rings."

His face a bit red, he did relax. Whew. He trusted me again. Maybe. "We're going to get you and Ms. Meyers some first aid for your b.l.o.o.d.y feet."

"Do you treat all your perps this well?"

"You're bleeding all over the place. The upholstery in my car will never be the same. And we're not too nice, because we're going to keep you here until we can talk with McDowell's alarm company. Unfortunately, we couldn't find any sign of an alarm system, and we don't want him to know we're checking up on him. Our clerk is calling a long list of area alarm companies as we speak. You might be here a while. Do you want to make a phone call?"

"No, thanks. I'm a big girl. My father won't worry. He'll think I'm at Eve's."

"And her parents will think she's at your place. How long have you two been playing that card?"

"Pretty much since we were five."

"Well, Ms. Meyers forgot. She made a phone call to her mother, who kindly delivered these." Werner set my em barra.s.singly dorky alligator slippers on his desk in front of me. "For after your feet are bandaged."

"I left these at Eve's years ago," I said, picking them up. "I designed them in fashion school. Our a.s.signment was to make something creative with an alligator zipper." I unzipped my alligators' mouths so their teeth would show.

Werner chuckled.

"I got the highest grade."

"Mrs. Meyers also left you each a pimento cream cheese sandwich."

"Yuck! Eve and I hate those. Just the smell tests our gag reflexes, and she knows it. The woman's diabolical."

"She did seem to think you deserved whatever I had in mind." His eyes twinkled as he stood and took my arm. "Lean on me if it hurts you to walk."

I carried my slippers and I leaned, while my stomach growled but I ignored it. It hurt worse on the hard floor than in the gra.s.s or on the rug in the McDowell house.

Werner saw that my eyes were tearing up and he slipped an arm around me.

"You're not going to carry me again, are you?"

"Not through the squad room, I'm not."

"Good." I tried footwork variations and found it easiest to walk on tiptoe. In the squad room, the eleven o'clock news was on. We stopped to watch McDowell shouting his outrage over his home being broken into.

"He'll do anything to get on the news," I said, glad he wasn't using any names. Then again, he couldn't know whether Eve and I were still at his house when the police arrived. "He's trying to plug his dike," I said, "in case Vinney might be thinking of using him, or his guesthouse, as an alibi or hiding place sanctioned by McDowell-which the old goat most a.s.suredly did not."

Werner nodded and I got the urge to tell him about McDowell practicing his fire speech the night before the playhouse fire, but I was pretty sure that was Lolique using us as dupes. Maybe. "The councilman isn't honest," I said. "I'm sure of that, because he's lying about what happened tonight. But I think he might be worse than a liar."

Werner looked at me with speculation. "Does McDowell know that's how you feel?"

Possibly, I thought, since he saw Eve's car in the woods by his house tonight, so he must know we were nosing around. He'd also learned that I'd been "hanging" around at his dealership-upside down, mind you-to examine his dead wife's picture, and yet . . . "I don't think so."

"Keep it that way."

Thirty-five.

Sometimes there are two very opposite directions, and we go with the stronger one at the end. It's an impulse thing, like 'Oh, I love both so much, but it's got to be one or the other because the two don't work together.'

-MARC JACOBS Eve and I appeared doomed to spending the night at the station, but where?

I had to perform some Mad-as in Madeira-Magic, and fast, like charming my way out of a paper bag, also known as: a jail cell.

We found Eve getting her foot bandaged in first aid.

"I'm hungry," I said as we finished. "How about you, Eve?"

"Not enough to eat the sandwiches my mother brought. Is she a trip or what?"

"A trip through the scary house," I said, "unless she's helping, which she does so well."

"Mothers," Werner chuckled, escorting us, one on each arm, across the squad room, but not in the direction of his office. Sc.r.a.p! "Detective, could you go for some Mexican food?"

He slowed. "I'm going off shift in a few minutes."

"Good, you can get it, and when you get back, between the three of us, we can put together the pieces of the murder puzzle while we eat. No sense in you eating alone." I know, low blow, but for a worthy cause.

He hesitated.

"My treat," I said.

Clearly, he was torn. "I'll have to put you in a cell while I get the food," he said, almost to himself.

"Don't forget the Mexican beer," Eve said. "I could go for some cold Cerveza Dos Equis. Sound good to you, Mad?"

I wanted to elbow her for missing the point. "We can wait in your office."

"So you can look though my files and talk my men into helping you?" But he'd stopped walking.

I guessed that my charm would no longer serve where the Wiener was concerned. "Dos Equis, yes," I said.

"But what do you want to eat?" Werner asked.

"Enchiladas, chimichangas, burritos, chile rellenos. We like to mix it up and share. What about you?"

He rolled his eyes, took some bills from his pocket, and tossed them on a desk. "Jimmy, did you get that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Go as soon as you're off shift and get some for yourself. Get a couple of six-packs of Dos Equis. I'll be off shift by the time you get back and I'll need self-medicating." He looked us over, head to foot. "It's gonna be a looong night." He then steered us toward his office.

Whew! "Thank you for not putting us in a cell."

"I should have my head examined. You're a manipulative perp, you know that?"

I tried to look innocent. "That's us, scheming perps wearing the lamest slippers on the planet."

"She does have a s.a.d.i.s.tic streak, my mother," Eve muttered. "When I called, she didn't ask why we're here but said we probably deserved it."

"She's a smart one," Werner said, rolling two comfortable executive-type office chairs up to his desk.

Eve sighed, wiggling a plush pink foot from which a dimpled face with yellow yarn hair smiled-her old Cabbage Patch doll slippers. "Though my feet do feel better. Even the one that's not cut hurts from wearing heels. How do you do it, Mad?"

"Sore is better than ugly. I'm a vain fashionista."

Eve barked a laugh. "And a stupid one."

Werner cleared his desk, shaking his head the whole time, probably as much at himself as Eve, for getting sucked in.

"My feet are wrapped in a cloud," I said. "I padded the soles of my chubby gators with three inches of foam at a time when platforms were making a comeback."

Werner stopped procrastinating and sat behind his desk.

I sat forward. "I'd like to speculate about the two murders given the latest information we've garnered. Okay with the two of you?"

Werner gave me a pointed look. "You're playing sleuth again."

"I'd be stupid not to. If a metaphorical fireball lands in your lap, you get the h.e.l.l out of the way, and you find out where it came from so you can keep it from happening again. I'll bet you've got questions up the wazoo that you'd like to toss out. Heck, Eve and I might know some 'details' that verify your speculation and vice versa."

Werner shrugged as if he could care less. "I'm in it for the beer."

"Fine, but you're missing a primo brainstorm. Eve, let's talk about McDowell's first wife."

"Gwendolyn Isobel," Eve said, "known by Councilman McDowell as Saint Belle."

Werner sat straighter.

"Right." I eyed Werner. "That was her quilt, her diamond, and her wedding band I gave you. She died around thirty years ago, right?"