“And we appreciate it. Of course, your friends Aaron and Diego might not.”

“They’re not friends. I was just shooting some pool with them.”

“They were friends of Hal’s, though, weren’t they? That’s what you told me.”

He looked away. “I don’t know. I mean, I guess they were.”

“And you were the one who introduced them, right? Hal was handing out the party favors and you couldn’t keep your mouth shut. Bad move, Boz. Guys like that aren’t satisfied with a little free fun. They always want more.”

“Is that what this is about? Look, those guys are into their own thing. I don’t-I’m not down with that. If they had anything to do with Hal getting killed, I don’t know anything about it.”

And even if you did you wouldn’t talk, right? she thought. I mean, you may not be the brightest bulb on the tree, but you’re not that stupid. One body dumped in the desert may be murder, but a second is just cleaning up loose ends.

“Looks like you’ve got an infected tooth,” said Catherine. “Must be painful.”

“Taking antibiotics for it. Doc says I’ve got an abscess.”

“That’s not all you’ve got, Boz. You own a leaky pen or just eat a lot of blueberries?”

“What?”

“Your fingertips are stained blue. I noticed the last time I talked to you.”

“So what? It was a leaky pen, like you said.”

“I don’t think so, Boz. Hey, you want to see something really cool?”

He watched her warily as she dug out a pocket mirror and handed it to him. “Here.”

“What’s this for?”

She got up from the table and walked over to the door. “I asked to use this room just for this,” she said. She turned out the lights.

“What-what am I supposed to do now?”

“Just wait a second, let your eyes adjust.”

Catherine could hear him breathing in the darkness. He sounded nervous.

“Okay,” she said. “Now hold the mirror up to your mouth. And smile.”

Catherine knew when he did so-because she could see the faint, greenish-white glow that came from his open mouth.

“Oh my God,” s aid Boz. He sounded sick-but then, he was.

She turned the lights back on. He looked as bad as he sounded. “What’s wrong with me? Do I… do I have radiation poisoning?”

“Nope. You have a condition known as phossy jaw. Pretty rare these days, but it used to be an occupational hazard for match makers. I don’t mean people who play Cupid-I mean actual, honest-to-God people who made matches.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Let me explain it to you. Those stains on your fingers are from iodine. The abscess in your mouth is from exposure to white phosphorous-it gets in the maxillary bone and basically causes it to rot, which is why your breath smells so bad. White phosphorous used to be used in the production of matches, until it was replaced by red phosphorous-it’s a lot less toxic. Unfortunately, red phosphorous is a lot harder to obtain these days, isn’t it? You found a source of iodine but had to settle for white phosphorous instead of red.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do, Boz. You work in a meth lab. Consider yourself lucky-phosphorous poisoning does more than make your teeth glow in the dark. Not only will it kill you through organ fa ilure, it’ll drive you insane.”

“I want a lawyer.”

“You’ll get one. But you should see a doctor first.”

Archie looked up from his keyboard when Nick walked in. “Okay,” said Archie. “I’ve got good news and bad news.”

Nick pulled up a stool and sat down. “Hit me.”

Archie tapped a key on the laptop he’d been working on. “I’ve decrypted the files on the laptop. It’s exactly what we suspected-kiddie porn, some of it starring Charong himself. He’s definitely going away.”

“And the bad news?”

“Keenan Harribold doesn’t make an appearance. There’s no kinky stuff featuring bugs. And the latest opus I found was time-stamped-check it out.” He tapped a few keys and pointed to the bottom of the screen.

Nick flinched and looked away. “How long is this file?”

“Two hours. I don’t know where it was shot, but it falls right in the middle of the TOD for Harribold.”

“Sick bastard,” Nick said grimly. “But it gives him an alibi.”

“Only for murder,” said Archie. “He’s still going to prison.”

Nick shook his head. “No matter how much time he does, it won’t be enough. Thanks, Archie. I guess.”

“You’re kidding,” said Grissom, peering over the top of his glasses. “Phossy jaw?”

Catherine nodded. “Yeah. Everything old is new again-I’m expecting an outbreak of smallpox at any moment. Figured you’d get a kick out of it.” She paused. “How’s the Harribold case going?”

“Not so good. Archie just eliminated our prime suspect.”

“One down, I guess.”

“I suppose. Is your glow-in-the-dark suspect cooperating?”

She shrugged. “He lawyered up. One of the symptoms of phosphorous poisoning is mental instability, so I don’t want to push him too hard-anything he says now might get thrown out later.”

“Does he seem irrational?”

“No, but who knows what he’ll be like after the lawyer finishes talking to him-he might start speaking in tongues and wearing his underpants on his head. I don’t think he’s my killer, anyway.”

“You have a working hypothesis?”

“Still putting it together, but it looks like Kanamu’s big gambling win threw him in the deep end of the drug pool. I think he just started hanging around with guys a lot heavier than he was used to and got in over his head.”

“So how does a killing over drugs produce a vic with wax in his lungs?”

“You ’ve been talking to the doc?”

“He mentioned a few details over tea.”

“That would be the part I’m still putting together…”

The sign over the door read PET CAVE in large, friendly letters. An old-fashioned bell tinkled when Grissom pulled open the door and stepped inside.

The store was large and clean, one wall lined with large aquariums and terrariums on four rows of shelves stretching from the midpoint toward the back. Two big pens dominated either side of the cashier’s island, right in the middle: one held puppies, the other kittens.

“Mr. Grissom!” The man who bustled up to him was shaped like a pear, dressed in an old-fashioned white lab coat with SOUTHFORD stenciled over the breast pocket. He had a wide smile on his wide face and a comb-over of hair dyed so black it looked like strands of black thread. “Haven’t seen you in a while. How’s Hank?”

“He’s fine. Putting on a little weight.”

Southford grinned and patted his own belly. “Well, it happens to all of us as we age, doesn’t it? I’ve got some good special diet stuff, perfect for a dog Hank’s size and age. I’ll throw in a sampler with your regular order of crickets, no charge-if he likes it, come back and I’ll give you a ten percent discount. Fifteen if you buy in bul k.”

“That’s very generous. Thank you.”

“How’s Sara?”

“She’s… away on a trip.”

“Oh? Not gone for too long, I hope.”

“No. No, I… I hope not.”

“Well, at least you have Hank to keep you company.”

“That’s true.” Grissom paused. “He misses her.”

Southford’s smile was gentle. “I’m sure she’ll be very glad to see him again. You know, I still remember the very first time you brought her here…”

So did Grissom.

The bell over the door tinkled.

“So this is it,” said Sara. “Not exactly what I imagined.”

Grissom walked in behind her. “Oh? What did you expect?”

“Something more… cave-like. Something more like your office.”

“My office is not a cave.”

“Oh, please. You could have bats roosting on the ceiling and no one would even notice. Except maybe Hodges-and he’d probably just compliment you on your excellent guano-collection technique… Oh! Puppies!”