“So that’s why you want me and Riley to question the others? We’re scarier than you are?”

Grissom smiled. “‘There can be no prestige without mystery, for familiarity breeds contempt.’ ”

“Sherlock Holmes?”

“Charles de Gaulle.”

Nick sighed. “Okay, mon generale. We’ll be your mystery men…”

“So, Nick,” Jake Soames said, “what do you say we hit the town after this? As a local, you must know the best places.”

Nick grinned despite himself. “Look, Mr. Soames-it really wouldn’t be appropriate for us to socialize. We’re both part of this investigation, but I’m afraid at the moment we’re on opposite sides of it.”

Soames chuckled. “I was wondering how long it would take… Guess you’ve got a few questions for me, eh? Want to know where I was and what I was doing on the night of, right?”

“You don’t seem terribly surprised.”

“Only thing I’m surprised at is how long it’s taken you to ask. The others might be a little naïve, but I lik e to think I’m a man of the world-of course we’re suspects! A boy gets killed with bugs while there’s a bloody swarm of insectophiles in town? Come on!”

“So can you account for your whereabouts?”

“Well, let’s see… I was in the hotel casino until half past eight; then I went to a club off the Strip called Bubble Bath. Amazing show they’ve got there… Feeling a bit peckish after that, got a steak dinner at this absolutely great diner, lots of chrome and neon-can’t remember the name, but I think I have a receipt somewhere, the waitress’ll remember me for sure… Met Grissom and Nathan for drinks, and then I felt the urge to play a little poker…”

The list went on for a while. Nick tried to keep a straight face, but it was fairly obvious Jake Soames not only had an alibi, it was one he was damned proud of.

Vegas, Nick thought. It was made for some people…

“So these photos are from Kanamu’s place?” Greg asked. He had them spread out over the surface of the layout table and was scrutinizing one in particular.

“Yeah,” said Catherine. “I’ve got Archie trying to decrypt his laptop right now. Didn’t find a cell phone. His place was pretty bare, actually-I got the feeling he didn’t spend a lot of time there.”

“Except for these,” said Greg, tapping a photo. It was a shot of the robot giraffe picture. “Clearly not part of the standard décor.”

“No. I’ve been trying to figure out where they were taken-I thought at first they might be part of a Cirque du Soleil performance, but they all look like outdoor shots.”

“That’s because they were taken in the middle of a desert. This shot of the temple, here? That’s not mist, it’s dust.”

“You recognize these?”

“Not these specifically, but the location? Absolutely. It’s the Black Rock Desert, about four hundred miles north of here. Black Rock City to the locals.”

“ Black Rock City? Greg, there’s nothing in that part of Nevada but alkali flats. It’s where people go to break land-speed records-there’s nothing to run into. It’s like the surface of the moon, minus the craters.”

“For most of the year, yes. But for one week, there’s a city of fifty thousand people, complete with streets, businesses-well, kind of-and lots and lots of this.” He tapped the photo again.

“Robot giraffes?”

“Fire-breathing robot giraffes. Also fire-breathing dragons, aliens, tanks, and naked people. Okay, not all the naked people are fire breathing, but a lot more than you’d expect.”

“Greg-”

He held up his hands, grinning. “I’m being straight with you, I swear. It’s just that any accurate description of Burning Man very quickly turns surreal. It’s a surreal place.”

“Burning Man. Okay, I’ve heard of that. It’s some kind of big party, right?”

Greg sighed. “That’s like saying Woodstock was a fe w people listening to music. No, that’s not right, either-Burners hate comparisons to Woodstock. Woodstock is to Burning Man like kindergarten is to college. That’s a little closer.”

“Burners?”

“It’s what attendees call themselves. Okay, I’m going to try to distill this down to a short and reasonably rational description, but bear with me, all right? Constant interjections of “Yeah, right,” and looks of disbelief won’t make this go any faster.” Greg stopped. His brow furrowed. He rubbed his chin.

“Greg?”

He held up one finger. “Hang on. I’m trying to find the right approach… okay. Burning Man is about a lot of things, but first and foremost it’s about art. It was started by an artist, it’s run by artists, and it actively encourages every single attendee to create art.”

“All fifty thousand?”

“Yes. Some people spend a year creating huge pieces and haul them out to the site. Some people create things on-site or drive around in bizarre vehicles they’ve built themselves-like fire-breathing giraffes. People wear costumes, or body paint, or nothing at all. And a lot of the art is based around fire.”

“Is there an actual burning man, or is that just artistic license?”

“There is. The city is built in a semicircle, with a gigantic plaza in the middle. The plaza is where the large-scale art is, and at the very center they build a wooden figure on a base, outlined in neon. That’s the man. He gets a little bigger every year-I think they actually hit a hundred feet last time.”

“That’s a pretty big structure to put up and take down in a week.”

Greg chuckled. “Oh, it comes down pretty quick. They burn it on Saturday night.”

“Must make one hell of a mess.”

“It does-and it’s all gone within a week or two. Burning Man’s environmental record with the Bureau of Land Management is one of the best-volunteers stay on-site and go over every square inch afterward.”

“I’m sensing a less-than-objective perspective, here.”

Greg looked a little sheepish. “Sorry. I’ve never been, but I have a friend who goes every year and she’s pretty evangelical about the place-especially when people seem to focus on nothing but the nudity and the drugs.”

“My mistake. Now, let’s focus on our vic-our dead, drug-using vic.”

“Right. Well, I think it’s pretty obvious he was a Burner. He probably took those pictures himself, though they might have been gifted to him.”

“Gifted. You mean given?”

“Sorry. That’s Burner-speak. There’s no commerce allowed at the festival beyond a centr al café that sells coffee and a place to get ice. Everything works on a gift economy-people compete to see who can give away better stuff. Booze, art, food, services-whatever.”

“Like a potlatch,” said Catherine. “Native American tribes in the Northwest practice it. Whoever gives the most impressive gift attains the highest status.”

“Pretty much. Done on a city-wide scale for a week, it’s pretty amazing. You’d think there would be more people taking out than putting in, trying to take advantage of the system, but that’s generally not what happens.” Greg paused. “A good way to think of it is a bunch of people playing ‘city’ for a week. All the bars, the restaurants, the hair salons-don’t ask-everybody’s trying to have fun instead of turn a buck. After Vegas, it’s… refreshing.”

“Maybe so, but our vic still had to live in the real world the rest of the year. And he’d recently come into a lot of money.”

Greg nodded. “And was spending some of it, at least, on drugs. There is a definite party element to the festival-drugs are pretty common, though it’s mostly softer stuff. Could be that one of his Burner friends is also his dealer.”

“So how do we investigate people from a city that only exists for a week a year?”

“Vegas has its own Burner community. I’ll show Kana mu’s picture around, see what I can find out.”

“All right. Kanamu doesn’t have a record in Nevada, but he may have one in Hawaii. I’m going to follow that up.”