“Oh, he’ll talk,” said Ramirez. “He can’t wait to talk.”

“You going to do some dancing?”

“Maybe. If only to piss off the lawyer girlfriend. But he didn’t have anything to do with the killing, did he?”

“No.”

“So we’re back to my drug-addict-and-open-door theory,” said Ramirez.

“That’s a little simplistic, don’t you think? Falling back on Occam’s razor.”

“Say what?”

“Where’d you get your diploma, Ramirez, Wal-Mart? Occam’s razor is a philosophical principle which holds that, all things being equal, the simplest solution tends to be the correct one.”

“Oh, yeah? Sounds good to me. What precinct does this Occam work, and does he need a partner? Because he sounds like someone I might actually be able to learn something from.”

CHAPTER 16

ACROSS THE STREET from the Snow White Diner, on the corner of Second and Market, another old restaurant had been tarted up into a swinging nightspot called The Continental, bringing in hip urban sophisticates and high-living suburbanites. But Snow White remained what it had been for decades, a greasy little greasy spoon with coral vinyl upholstery and spinning stools at the counter. Rumor had it Ben Franklin ate scrapple there. The way Kyle figured, compared with the stylishly coiffed, high-heeled nightspot across the street, Snow White was like a decrepit old aunt with a bent back and support hose, snapping her gum as she rubbed her sore feet.

Which sort of described the joint’s waitresses.

“Here you are, hon,” said one of those waitresses, sliding a plate in front of Kyle piled with eggs, over easy, hold the wiggle, home fries, grilled sausage, rye toast. She put a toasted English muffin in front of Kat. “More coffee, dears?”

“Sure,” said Kat.

“She’ll have it shaken, not stirred,” said Kyle with a sly smile.

The waitress looked at Kyle for a moment with one eye closed and then made her slow, arthritic way back to the counter.

“Don’t deny it,” said Kyle as he tucked into his breakfast. “You are so Bond. ‘Shin, Katie Shin.’ That cop’s expression was perfect, the way her jaw dropped as you said it. ‘Shin, Katie Shin.’ ”

“I don’t have much time,” said Kat, grabbing for a jelly packet from the dispenser. “I’m meeting a client this morning.”

“But it’s Saturday.”

“The capitalist engine never sleeps.”

“I thought we could do the hang today, take a run, maybe catch a movie on cable.”

“Don’t complain about my job too much. It pays for the apartment and the cable.”

“Skitch could get you your cable for free.”

“No thanks, I’ll keep the job. And it puts me in a position to yank your butt out of a sling whenever I need to, like this morning.”

“Yeah, well, thank you for that.” Kyle looked up from his eggs, grinned. “Just when I was about to score.”

“Was she rough on you?”

“She tried to be.”

“Did you pull your routine on her?”

“I told her she had nice eyes, if that’s what you mean.”

“How big an idiot are you?”

“But she does.”

“She hauls you into an interrogation room for questioning about a murder and you think you’re playing tonsil hockey at a pickup bar.”

“I don’t know, there’s something about a girl with a gun.”

“You’re into muzzles, go gay, it’s safer.”

“How’d you even know I was there?” said Kyle.

“Skitch. What the hell were you doing teaming up with that moron to break into your dad’s old office anyway?”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“There’s your mistake right there. Anything hatched with Skitch around is not a good idea. Skitch is a good-idea-free zone.”

“Skitch is all right.”

“He’s not a bad guy, he can’t help himself. But really, right now, with the cops looking hard at you in relation to a murder, he’s not who you want to be hanging with. Besides, I think he’s into something he shouldn’t be. After he woke me up with news of your arrest, he started talking about this deal he’s working on and offered me an equity position.”

“Equity?”

“And he was talking a bit fast, like he was a little more desperate than he wanted to let on.”

“Don’t give him anything.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not. It was just . . . uncomfortable.”

“I’ll tell him to back off.”

“Good. Are you coming Sunday?”

“Nah.”

“Please. My dad would love to see you.” She paused, looked down at her coffee. “And my mother wants you to come, too.”

“Liar.”

“No, really. She’s making her famous jangeo-gui just for you.”

“For me?”

“Well, maybe not just for you.”

“What is it?”

“Broiled eel.”

“You’re cute, but I’m going to pass. You know how I get at these Father’s Day things, seeing as I don’t really have one. And your mom will always hate me for that time I got you suspended in middle school.” “That was ages ago. She’s over it.”

“No she’s not. Your mom holds grudges like banks hold cash.” “True.”

“It’s actually one of her best features. Instead I think I’ll just ingest something really bad for me, watch the ball game on TV, and pass out clutching the remote.”

“You are such a model for the young people of our city. And you’re also going to ignore my legal advice, I assume, when I tell you no more breaking into offices, no more flirting with cops.”

“But you saw her.”

“I don’t care.”

“And I think she likes me. You want some sausage?”

“Just what I need, sausage breath when in an hour I’ll be huddling with the CFO of a Fortune 500 company with offshore-tax issues.”

“Shin, Katie Shin.”

“It’s time for you to stop the joking, Kyle, stop screwing up, stop playing at detective. You’re in the middle of a murder investigation. This is turning serious.”

Kyle glanced down at his plate, shoveled some egg and potato onto his toast, took a bite.