banging my head against a steel door.â
âIs she that way with all reporters?â
âApparently. I havenât seen any comments from her on TV or in any other paper.â
âSo itâs not personal?â
âNo, I think itâs psychological. Maybe sheâs been burned by a reporter, or maybe sheâs just paranoid.â
Jayne took a long swig of ginger ale. âMaybe itâs time to go over her head.â
âWhat do you mean?â I said.
âTalk to the chief. Describe to him how other departmentsâSt. Paul PD, for exampleâdeal with the press and tell him you would appreciate the same courtesy from the Falcon Heights PD.â
âThe chief is a her, not a him, and I suspect she might be as tough to deal with as KGB.â
âKGB?â
âThose are the investigatorâs initials, and they fit her perÂsonÂality. She goes by K.G. Barnes. I donât know what the K and the G are for.â
Jayne drained her glass. âMaybe the chief will surprise you if you approach her diplomatically.â
âMaybe,â I said. âItâs worth a try.â
âRemember, the key word is âdiplomatically.ââ
âYou know me.â
âThatâs why Iâm reminding you.â She put enough money on the table to cover her half of the tab and stood up, signaling it was time to go home.
Â
* * *
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Martha greeted me with the usual hugs and kisses, and Sherlock Holmes welcomed me by winding himself around my ankles until I pushed him away with my foot. After Martha and I swapped stories about our daysâ workâher day had been much more productive than mineâwe sat down to watch the ten oâclock news.
The TV was flashing the usual montage of car crashes, fires, and violent crimes, so I was half dozing when Martha said, âOh, look, thereâs Al.â
There was his back anyway, at the presentation of a plaque to a developer in the mayorâs office. The voice describing the event was that of Trish Valentine, who was shown a moment later wearing a blouse with three open buttons at the top. It must have been really hot in the mayorâs office.
âAl has all the fun,â I said. âHe gets to stare down Trishâs cleavage and he gets e-mails from a woman who thinks heâs the greatest photographer since Ansel Adams.â
âAl is getting e-mails from a woman?â Martha said.
I told her about Willow hanging out at Alâs book signing and her two follow-up e-mails praising his work.
âDoes Carol know about this woman?â Martha asked.
âDonât know. Anyway, itâs no big deal.â
âIt might be bigger than you think.â
âAl is not going to run away with Willow just because she likes his work.â
âIâm more concerned about Willow running away with Al,â Martha said.
I decided that this was not the time to mention Alâs desÂcription of Willow as âsexy.â
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* * *
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Tuesday was my day off and I had two options. One, I could hunt for an apartment; two, I could go to the State Fair. This was a no-brainerâno landlord would have a Pronto Pup stand in his yard, and we still had a whole month to find a new place and move. I figured I could justify my choice to Martha by talking to Lorrie Gardner about the aftermath of Vinnie Lucianoâs dramatic death on the fairgrounds.
In deference to Lorrieâs concern about parking on the grass, I left my car way up behind the grandstand in the Fox Lot and hiked about three blocks in eighty-degree heat to her office in the Admin Building. On the way, I snagged my first Pronto Pup of the day, and I had just nipped the last bite off the stick when I greeted Lorrie at her desk. She was wearing white shorts and a skimpy blue tank top that left almost as little to the imagination as a bikini. Obviously the air conditioning hadnât been fixed.
âWhat