The judge lowered himself onto the nearest chair, his expression bleak. “Meaning that they’re now searching for her remains.”

Duncan stood mute. DeeDee nodded and murmured, “I’m sorry.”

Laird covered his face with his hands and began to sob. DeeDee and Duncan turned him over to the people hovering in the magnificent foyer of his home and let themselves out the front door. To reach DeeDee’s car, they had to battle their way through a throng of reporters who for a week had kept vigil in the Washington Street median in front of the judge’s home.

“Give me a break, Hatcher,” one of them shouted at Duncan. “What’s the new development?”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Can I quote you?”

“Please.” Duncan climbed into the front seat and slammed the car door. “Get the hell out of here,” he said to DeeDee as she clambered into the driver’s seat.

They rode back to the Barracks in virtual silence. DeeDee must have sensed his mood, or maybe she had been subdued by the judge’s apparent grief. In any case, she remained blessedly and uncharacteristically mute.

But the day was far from over.

No sooner had they entered the VCU office than Worley sidled up to them. Bobbing a toothpick in his mouth, he said to Duncan, “Get ready for the hard-on of your life, my friend.”

“Bad timing, Worley,” DeeDee snarled. “We’re in no mood for one of your dirty jokes.”

“No joke.”

“Then what?” Duncan asked brusquely.

“While you were out, we got a tip. Someone who saw Elise Laird.”

Duncan ’s heart began to race. “When?”

“Last week. What? Oh, you thought I meant like today?” Worley shook his head. “Naw. Last week. Before his arrest.”

“Arrest? Whose arrest?”

“Gordie Ballew’s.”

“Gordie Ballew!” DeeDee exclaimed, underscoring Duncan ’s disappointment.

“He demanded a meeting with his public defender,” Worley said. “He’s changed his mind and wants to deal. Says he saw Elise Laird the same day he was arrested. Earlier in the day.”

Duncan made a scoffing sound. “Why’s he suddenly remembering this?”

“His lawyer mentioned time served and Laird’s reward of fifty grand.”

“Every lowlife within a hundred miles of Savannah is laying claim to that reward,” Duncan said. “And the lowest of them is Gordie Ballew. Tell him I said to find himself a sweetheart among the cons and enjoy his stay in prison.” He turned toward his private office, but Worley hooked his elbow and pulled him back around. “I’m not yanking your pod, Dunk, and neither is Gordie. This could be a legitimate break.”

Crossly, he pulled his elbow free. “I doubt it, but okay. What did Gordie have to say?”

“Guess who he claims was with Mrs. Laird.”

DeeDee, sharing Duncan ’s impatience, asked, “Who?”

“Robert Savich.” Worley grinned and jabbed Duncan in the gut. “You hard yet?”

SAVICH’S SECRETARY, KENNY, RECOILED FROM DEEDEE’S COIFFURE with unconcealed horror. “I can recommend a product that will help control that.”

“Control what?” she asked, flashing him her badge.

“Oh dear.”

Duncan didn’t know if his lament was over DeeDee’s frizzy hairdo or the police being there to question his boss.

As they entered Savich’s office, he smiled from behind his desk and politely motioned them to sit in the matching chairs facing him. “I’ve been expecting you.”

“Why’s that?” Duncan asked.

“Because whenever you’ve got a murder without a suspect, you come to me. I’m flattered, Detective Hatcher. Truly I am. But being your fall guy on a regular basis is testing my patience.”

“What do you know about Elise Laird?”

His startling blue eyes shifted to DeeDee, who’d posed the question without preamble. “In what context?”

“In the context that she’s been missing for a week.”

“Well, in that context, I know nothing except what I’ve read in the newspaper or heard on television.” Dismissing DeeDee, he returned his unblinking gaze to Duncan. “Did Kenny offer you some refreshment?”

“Just days before she went missing, you met with Elise Laird in a topless bar called White Tie and Tails.”

Savich formed a steeple with his fingers and mused aloud, “Do you think the name of that club has racial implications?”

“The meeting, Savich.”

Duncan ’s impatience made him grin. “Someone’s pulling your leg, Detective Hatcher.”

“Detective Bowen and I are very busy these days. Please don’t waste our time. Tell us the purpose of your tête-à-tête in that dark booth with Elise Laird.”

“There was no such tête-à-tête.”

“Someone told us otherwise.”

Savich remained unruffled. “Let me guess. That ‘someone’ is after the fifty-thousand-dollar reward her husband has offered.”

“That someone is a reliable source,” DeeDee said.

Gordie Ballew was about as reliable as a snake oil salesman’s verbal guarantee, but Duncan nodded his agreement to DeeDee’s lie.

Savich said, “He’s lying.”

“I didn’t say it was a he.”

Savich gave a negligent wave of his hand. “He, she, whatever. Your snitch is lying.”

“I’d put my money on you being the liar,” DeeDee said. “We have the time and the place of the meeting, plus a witness willing to testify to it. Now, think real hard, Savich. Concentrate. Are you sure you didn’t have a meeting last week with Elise Laird?”

Savich assessed her while idly drumming his fingers on the polished surface of his desk. After several moments, he said, “I bet you eat pussy, don’t you?”

She would have lunged from her chair if Duncan hadn’t clothes-lined her across the chest to keep her in her seat. Her angry reaction was exactly what Savich was after. Duncan had learned that lesson the hard way and had spent two days in jail as a consequence.

Before they arrived, he’d reminded DeeDee to beware of Savich’s manipulations and warned her against reacting to them. Savich would push whatever buttons he could to distract them.

Duncan gave DeeDee a warning look, then went back to Savich. “You’re lying about that meeting. We know it took place. So, why not just give it up sooner rather than later and tell us what you know about Elise Laird.”

“I know that she’s a lovely girl,” he said. “Or was the last time I saw her.”

“When was that?”

“Hmm, it’s been a long time. Certainly before she got married, and how long has that been?” Focused on Duncan now, he said silkily, “But she’s not a woman you easily forget, is she? I met her while she was working at the White Tie and Tails. I remember the first time she…entertained me. I was captivated by her.”

He laughed out loud. “Ah, I see by your expression that you’re not immune to her charms, Detective Hatcher. How reassuring. It’s nice to know that you have the same base appetites as the rest of us mere mortals.”

Duncan was seething inside but kept his expression schooled.

Savich snickered, then continued. “As alluring as Elise was, I suggested it would further her career if she got breast implants. She didn’t embrace the idea. Actually, that’s an understatement. She was quite opposed to it.”

He opened a silver box on his desk and took a long, black cigarette from it. “Either of you care for one?” When neither deigned to answer, he fit the cigarette into an ivory filter and lit it with a gold lighter, snapping the lid closed with a decisive click that snuffed out the flame. He inhaled deeply and directed a plume of smoke toward the ceiling.

“In retrospect,” he said, “I believe Elise was right to reject my suggestion. Her breasts are very soft and sexy in their natural state.”

Duncan wanted to yank the cigarette from Savich’s smiling lips, grind it out against his eyeball, and then push the smooth-talking son of a bitch through the plate glass window behind his desk.

Stiffly, he asked Savich if he’d known Meyer Napoli.