"They're like the clap," he said. "The best you can do is take precautions and try to avoid them."

  Karl and I laughed at that. Then McGuire said, "None of which answers the question of who dropped a dead vamp on top of you guys – and why?"

  "Not to mention how," Karl said.

  "Had to've been magic," I said.

  "I wonder." McGuire leaned back in his chair. "I've been thinking about this. Let's say the vamp is in bat form, and he's flapping along, on his way to Joe's Blood Bank, or someplace. But there's a guy on the ground, or maybe on a roof, who's got a rifle loaded with silver, or that charcoal stuff we've been seeing lately. Bang! He nails Mr Bat, who turns back into human form upon death, like they do, whereupon gravity takes over and he drops like a rock – right on top of you."

  I glanced at Karl. I was pretty sure we had the same thing in mind: this is what happens the boss has too much time to think about stuff.

  "Be a hell of a shot," I said. "Especially at night."

  "More than that, it fails the test of Occam's Razor," Karl said.

  "Whose razor?" McGuire asked.

  "William of Occam, big philosopher dude in the Middle Ages. He said that 'The simplest explanation that fits the known facts is probably true.'"

  McGuire and I both stared at him.

  Karl shrugged. "Just something I read in a magazine, is all. But it makes sense. No disrespect, boss, but that thing with the rifle is just too complicated to be real likely."

  McGuire didn't get mad. "I wasn't pushing it," he said. "It was just a thought. And if that's not what happened, then why is some magician dropping a dead vamp on a couple of cops?"

  "We might have the beginning of an answer once I hear from Cecelia Reynolds," I said. "She's doing the post on the vamp and I asked her to look for those symbols carved on the body."

  "Oh, right," McGuire said. He rummaged through the mess on his desk and came up with a phone message slip, which he handed to me. "She called while you were in with the Rat Squad. Wants you to call back."

  I got out my cell phone. "You mind?" I asked him.

  "Nah, go ahead."

  I called the number that Cecelia had left. It rang five or six times, and I was just thinking that I was going to have to leave a voicemail message when she came on the line.

  "This is Dr Reynolds."

  "Stan Markowski, Cecelia. I'm calling–"

  "–about your vamp, right." Cecelia's phone manner tends to be kind of brusque.

  "You called, so I'm assuming you found–"

  "–weird symbols carved into the corpse. Yeppir, we got 'em. In the back, between the shoulder blades. Almost certainly post-mortem."

  "Were there–"

  "Three of 'em? Yep, just like you predicted, Stan."

  "Okay, I'll need–"

  "Photos, check. Ronnie already took 'em. Close up, middle distance, side angles, the whole nine yards. Give me your–"

  "Email address?" Two can play this game. "Sure, here it is."

  I gave her the address I use for official business. Cecelia promised to get photos to me within the hour, then hung up.

  I told McGuire and Karl what she'd said.

  "Which means that's number four," Karl said. "Just like you figured, Stan."

  McGuire looked at me. "Somebody was trying to send you guys a message."

  "That's not all they were doing," I said. "Remember, I sped up kind of sudden, to avoid hitting a cat that was crossing the street."

  "Yeah, that's right," McGuire said. "I hope you told Internal Affairs about the cat – they'll probably wanna interview it."

  "So it was a hit," Karl said. "The body was intended to go through the windshield, right on top of us – along with all that broken glass."

  "Yeah," I said, "and that's where this gets really fucked up. The esoteric marks on the corpse means it's Sligo – or whoever's been offing all these vamps." I hadn't forgotten about Vollman – not after Prescott said this hard spell had to be carried out by a vampire/wizard.

  McGuire nodded, then made a "Go on" gesture with one hand.

  "But now we've got another hit attempt, using magic. We've been operating on the assumption–"

  "But somebody who's involved in the vamp sacrifices just tried to kill us," I said. "And that means, one of our assumptions was wrong, either about Sligo or Longworth..."

  There was silence in the little room before McGuire finally put it into words.

  "Or the two of them are working together."

I needed sleep badly. My skull felt like it was packed full of wet cotton, and I knew that any heavy thinking was out of the question before I grabbed some z's. And in light of what we'd been discussing in McGuire's office, some very heavy thinking was going to be in order.

  Karl and I left the building together, like we usually did. There wasn't much conversation along the way. We were both beat, and besides, whatever there was to say, we'd already said it in McGuire's office.

  As we reached the cracked asphalt of the parking area I said, "I can probably function okay if I get six hours – how about you?"

  "That seems about right, I guess." Karl didn't sound happy about it, and I didn't blame him.

  "Then why don't we plan to come back on shift at–"

  "Stan." Something in Karl's voice brought me to full alertness in the space of a quick breath.

  "What is it?"

  "There's somebody near your car, but on the other side of the fence."

  I slowly pushed my sport coat back and reached for the Beretta on my right hip. A second later, I heard the soft click as Karl thumbed back the hammer on the Glock he carried.