"It's night. Wouldn't that make you a night trader?"

I smile. "It's day somewhere."

"Right, right. What markets do you trade in? London? Tokyo?"

"Uh, yeah," I manage.

"So, are you up for the day or finishing for the night?"

"Up for the day.” Not a total lie. Only my day has fifteen minutes left. "Early bird and all that."

She forces a smile, then after a deep breath, asks, "You hear about the girl that got killed across the street? You know, between all that trading that you do?"

"Yeah, I heard about it."

"Where?"

"Where what?"

"Where did you hear about it?"

"On the internet."

"Right, you're always on that thing. With all that trading in Tokyo you do."

I force a smile.

It is 3:49.

I have to wrap this up before I pass out in front of this lady or at least before any more of my stupid lies – which I wasn't even sure why I was telling – start to pile any higher.

"You see anything, anybody walking around or anything?"

I shake my head. "I was pretty busy two nights ago, didn't even look out the window."

"Who said anything about two nights ago?" Her eyebrows furrow.

"Oh, I thought I read that she was killed two nights ago? Was she not?" I stammer. "Was she killed last night?"

She stares at me for a couple seconds. "Not sure. The coroner is still trying to figure that one out."

"Well, I didn't see anything last night either."

"What about three nights ago? You see anything suspicious three nights ago?"

I shake my head.

"You know her?"

"Who?"

"The girl from across the street. You know her? Ever meet her? Ever take her out for coffee?"

"No. Never met her."

She nods. Stands. "Well, if you hear anything, or remember anything, give me a call."

"I will."

My phone rings. Change that, a phone rings. Not mine. My cell phone is set to the standard BA-RING. This ring is set to chimes.

"You gonna get that?" she asks, nodding toward the couch where my sweatpants and hoodie from the previous night are strewn.

"Naw, probably not important."

"You get a lot of unimportant calls at four in the morning?"

Remember how I'd had a feeling I'd forgotten something? Something important? Well, I had. I try to keep a straight face as I realize the phone ringing is the dead woman's. I'd forgotten to put it back under the car because I'd been overcome by the smell. And doubly stupid, I'd left the phone in the pocket of my sweatpants.

"Tons," I reply to her question.

"How many cell phones do you have?"

"Just the one."

She opens the door, then pulls her cell phone from her pocket and hits a couple buttons. My cell phone, the one in my pocket, BA-RING, BA-RINGs.

She ends the call with a grin. "I'll be in touch, Mr. Bins."

And then she's gone.

I look down at Lassie.

"What just happened?"