Light from the morning sun shone through the glass steeple that is the back of my house and filled the loft. Lucy was naked, sleeping on her belly, her hair tangled from the hours before. I snuggled against her, fitting myself to the line of her hip, enjoying her warmth.

I touched her hair. Soft. I kissed her shoulder. The salty warmth good on my lips. I looked at her, and thought how lucky I was to have this view.

Her skin was a dark gold, the line of her legs and back strong even in sleep. Lucy had attended LSU on a tennis scholarship, and worked hard to maintain her game. She carried herself with the easy grace of a natural athlete, and made love the way she played tennis, with aggression and passion, yet with moments of shyness that moved me.

The cat was perched on the guardrail at the edge of the loft, staring at her. She was in his spot, but he didn't look upset. Just curious. Maybe he also liked the view.

Lucy murmured, "Go back to sleep."

Her eyes half opened, drowsy with sleep.

Hearing her, the cat bolted down the stairs and growled from the living room. You just have to ignore him.

"We never got to your surprise."

She snuggled closer. "You can look forward to it tonight."

I touched my tongue to her back. "I'm looking forward to it right now."

She giggled. "You're insatiable."

"For you."

"I've got to go to work."

"I'll call and tell'm you're busy making love to the World's Greatest Detective. They'll understand. They always do." She pushed herself up on her elbows. "Always?" "A slip of the tongue. Sorry," "Not half as sorry as you're going to be." She jumped on top of me, but I wasn't sorry at all.

Later that morning, I took Lucy back to her car, then drove down to Parker Center without letting Krantz know I was coming. I thought he would raise nine kinds of hell because I'd gone to see Dersh, but when I pushed through the double doors, he said, "Hope you didn't get in trouble about the autopsy screw-up."

"No, but the family wants the report."

"We'll have it for you in a few minutes. You ready for the brief?" Like we were buddies, and he was only too happy to include me on the team.

"Sure. By the way, you get the criminalist's report yet?"

"Should be soon. Get you both at the same time."

Then he smiled and disappeared down the hall.

Maybe someone had slipped him Prozac. Maybe his good humor was a ploy to get me into the briefing where he and Watts and Williams would beat me to death for having seen Dersh. Whatever the case, he was still lying to me about the report.

We assembled in the conference room where Stan Watts gave the brief, telling me that they had checked out the ex-husband (playing softball in Central Park at the time of Karen's murder), finished canvassing the homes surrounding Lake Hollywood (no one had seen or heard anything), and were in the process of questioning those people with whom Karen worked and attended school. I asked Watts if they had developed a theory about the shooter, but Krantz answered, saying they were still working on it. Krantz nodded at every point Watts ticked off, more relaxed than at any other time I'd seen him, and still none of them mentioned my visit to Dersh. They had to know, and I found that even more odd than Krantz's behavior.

I said, "When can I expect the reports? I'd like to get out of here."

Krantz stood, reasonable, but all business. "Dolan, see if you can chase down that paper. Get Mr. Cole on his way."

Dolan flipped him off behind his back as she left.

After the briefing, I went back to the squad room looking for her, but she wasn't at her desk. Krantz wasn't the only one in a good mood. Bruly and Salerno high-fived each other at the Mr. Coffee and walked away laughing. Williams and the Buzz Cut came through the double doors, Krantz offering his hand and the Buzz Cut taking it. The Buzz Cut was smiling, too.

When I was here before, the fabric of the room had been stiff with tension, as if the place and the people were caught in the kind of electrified field that made their hair stand on end. But now something had happened to cut the juice. A sea change had occurred that had freed them from electric hair, and let them overlook the fact that I had interfered with their investigation by visiting Dersh. That is no small thing to overlook.

I got a cup of coffee, sat in the dunce chair to wait for Dolan, and wondered about it until the kid with the mail cart pushed his way in through the doors. Bruly slapped the kid a high five, the two of them laughing about something I couldn't overhear. Salerno joined the conversation, and the three of them talked for a few minutes before the kid moved on. When he moved on, he was smiling, too, and I wondered if he was smiling about the same thing as everyone else.

When he pushed the cart past, I said, "Hey, Curtis. Can I ask you a question?"

He eyed me suspiciously. The last time I tried to milk Curtis Wood for information it hadn't gone so well.

"First, you were right when you told me that these guys are the best in the business. I've got a whole new respect for them. They really get results."

"Uh-huh."

"I was wondering if you hear what they say about me."

Now he wasn't looking so much suspicious as confused.

"What do you mean?"

"I guess it's just a professional consideration, you know?

I've really grown to respect these guys. I want them to respect me, too."

I watched him hopefully, and when he understood what I was driving at, he shrugged. "They think you're okay, Cole. They don't like it that you're around, but they've checked up on you. I heard Dolan say that if you were half as good as people say, your dick would be a foot long."

"That Dolan is a class act, isn't she?"

"She's the best."

This time it was going better. I had established rapport, and put our conversation on an intimate basis. Soon, I would have him eating out of my hand.

"It's good you're telling me these things, Curtis. With all the whispering today, I thought they were cracking jokes about me."

"Nah."

I gave a big sigh as if I were relieved, then made a show of looking around at Bruly and Salerno and the others. "With all the grinning around here, they must've made a breakthrough in the case."

Curtis Wood turned back to his cart. "I don't know anything, Cole."

"Anything about what?" Mr. Innocent.

"You're so obvious, Cole. You're trying to pump me for information I don't have. If you think something's going on, have the balls to ask someone instead of just sneaking around."

He shook his head like he was disappointed, then pushed the mail cart away, muttering.

"Foot long, my ass."

Shown up once again by the civilian wannabe. Maybe next time he'd just shoot me.

Dolan came out of the copy room a few minutes later and handed me a large manila envelope without meeting my eyes. "These are the reports Krantz wants me to give you."

"What's going on around here, Dolan?"

"Nothing."

"Then why do I get the feeling I'm being kept out of something?"

"You're paranoid."

So much for the direct approach.

I went down to my car, raised the top for the sun, and waited. Forty minutes later, the Buzz Cut nosed out of the parking garage behind the wheel of a tan Ford Taurus. He made his way to the Harbor Freeway, then drove west through the center of Los Angeles, then north on the 405 into Westwood. He didn't hurry, and he was easy to follow. He was relaxed, too. And smiling. I copied his tag number to run his registration, but I needn't have bothered. I knew what he was as soon as he turned onto the long, straight drive of the United States Federal Building on Wilshire Boulevard.