But whoever else he might be, Alex Doncevic was not the name on the list Deborah and I had been investigating. She had knocked on that door to find someone named Brandon Weiss, and been stabbed by someone else altogether, who had panicked into flight and attempted murder at the mere sight of her badge?

Dexter does not demand that life must always unfold in a reasonable manner. After all, I live here, and I know that logic does not.

But this made no sense at all, unless I accepted the idea that if you knock on doors at random in Miami, one out of three people who answer are prepared to kill you. While this idea had its own very great charm, it did not really seem terribly likely.

On top of that, at the moment, why he did it was not as important as the fact that Doncevic had stabbed Deborah. But why that should cause a gathering of this magnitude, I had no idea. Matthews, Cappuccio, Salguero —these people did not get together for coffee every day.

So, I knew that something unpleasant was happening, and that whatever I said was going to affect it, but since I didn't know what “it” was I didn't know what to say to make things better.

There was just too much information that did not add up to anything, and even my giant brain could not quite cope. I cleared my throat, hoping it would give me a little time, but it was over in just a few seconds and they were all still looking at me.

“Well” I said again. “Um, the beginning? You mean, um ...”

“You went to interview Mr Doncevic” Cappuccio said.

“No, um —not really”

“Not really” said Simeon, as if to clarify what the words meant.

“What does that mean, not really?”

“We went to interview someone named Brandon Weiss” I said.

“Doncevic answered the door.” Cappuccio nodded. “What did he say when Sergeant Morgan identified herself?”

I don't know” I said.

Simeon glanced at Cappuccio and said, “Stonewalling” in a very loud whisper. She waved it off.

“Mr Morgan” she said, and glanced down at the file in front of her. “Dexter.” She gave me a very small facial twitch that she probably thought was a warm smile. “You're not under oath here, and you're not in any kind of trouble. We just need to know what happened, leading up to the stabbing.” I understand” I said. “But I was in the car.” Simeon sat up almost at attention. “In the car,” he said. “Not at the door with Sergeant Morgan.”

“That's right.”

“So you didn't hear what was said —or not said” he said, raising one eyebrow high enough that it might almost pass for a tiny toupee on that shiny bald head.

“That's right.”

Cappuccio leaned in and said, “But you said in your statement that Sergeant Morgan showed her badge.”

“Yes” I said. I saw her.”

“And he was sitting in the car, how far away?” Simeon said. “Do you know what I could do with that in court?” Matthews cleared his throat. “Let's not, um —court is not, uh, we don't have to assume this will end in court” he said.

I was a lot closer when he tried to stab me” I said, hoping to be a little helpful.

But Simeon waved that off. “Self-defense,” he said. “If she failed to properly identify herself as an officer of the law, he had every right to defend himself!”

“She showed her badge, I'm sure of it” I said.

“You can't be sure —not from fifty feet away!” Simeon asserted.

I saw it” I protested, and hoped I didn't sound petulant.

“Besides, Deborah would never forget that —she's known the correct procedure since she could walk.” Simeon waved a very large index finger at me. “And that's another thing I really don't like here —exactly what is your relationship to Sergeant Morgan?”

“She's my sister,” I said.

“Your sister,” he said, making it sound somehow like he was saying, “Your evil henchman.” He shook his head theatrically, and looked around the room. He definitely had everyone's attention, and he was clearly enjoying it. “This just gets better and better,” he said, with a much nicer smile than Cappuccio's.

Salguero spoke up for the first time. “Deborah Morgan has a clean record. She comes from a police family, and she is clean in every way, and always has been.”

“A police family does not mean clean” Simeon said. “What it means is the Blue Wall, and you know it. This is a clear case of self defense, abuse of authority, and cover-up.” He threw his hands up and went on, “Obviously, we are never going to find out what really happened, not with all these Byzantine family and police department connections. I think we will just have to let the courts figure this out.”

Ed Beasley spoke up for the first time, in a gruff and non hysterical way that made me want to give him a hearty handshake.

“We have an officer in intensive care” he said. “Because your client stuck a knife in her. And we don't need a court to figure that out, Kwami.”

Simeon turned a row of bright teeth on Beasley. “Maybe not, Ed” he said. “But until you guys succeed in throwing out the Bill of Rights, my client has that option.” He stood up. “In any case” he said, I think I have enough to get my client out on bail.” He nodded at Cappuccio and left the room.

There was a moment of silence, and then Matthews cleared his throat. “Does he have enough, Irene?” Cappuccio snapped the pencil she was holding. “With the right judge? Yeah” she said. “Probably.”

“The political climate is not good right now” Beasley said.

“Simeon can stir things up and make this stink. And we can't afford another stink right now.”

“All right then, people” Matthews said. “Let's batten down the hatches for the coming shit-storm. Lieutenant Stein, you've got your work cut out for you. Get something on my desk for the press ASAP —before noon.”

Stein nodded. “Right” he said.

Israel Salguero stood up and said, I have my work, too, Captain.

Internal Affairs will have to start a review of Sergeant Morgan's behavior right away.”

“All right, good” Matthews said, and then he looked at me.

“Morgan” he said, shaking his head. I wish you could have been a little more helpful.”

So Alex Doncevic was out on the street long before Deborah was even awake. In fact, Doncevic was out of the detention center at 5.17 that afternoon, which was only an hour and twenty-four minutes after Deborah opened her eyes for the first time.

I knew about Deborah because Chutsky called me right away, as excited as if she had just swum the English Channel towing a piano. “She's gonna be okay, Dex” he said. “She opened her eyes and looked right at me.”

“Did she say anything?” I asked.

“No” he said. “But she squeezed my hand. She's gonna make it.” I was still not convinced that a wink and a squeeze were accurate signs that a complete recovery was at hand, but it was nice to know that she had made some progress. Especially since she would need to be fully conscious to face Israel Salguero and Internal Affairs.

I knew when Doncevic was released from the Detention center because in the time between the meeting in the conference room and Chutsky's call I had made a decision.

I have said before that I do not actually feel emotions. That's fine with me, since I have noticed that they are never particularly helpful to those who do feel them. But throughout that long and weary day I had noticed a strange sensation in the pit of my stomach that blossomed right after Matthews had called me unhelpful. The feeling grew throughout the rest of the morning, until it felt something like severe indigestion, although I am sure it had nothing to do with the Bavarian Creme doughnut I'd eaten, which had been quite good.

No, at the center of this new and unpleasant sensation was the thought that, for the first time ever, it bothered me that life was not fair.