“But I really liked that one. He told me he’s writing a sequel, although I got a feeling he may not get a chance to finish it.” He smiled to himself. “I’m gonna have to drop in on him again. He’s got some of the coolest toys. Check this out.” He pulled my Batmobile from his jacket pocket.

“That’s very nice, Rick.”

“You press this little button here on the hood, and this chain cutter pops out of the front bumper. It used to have an antenna, but I guess that snapped off.”

That son of a bitch. Mint condition since I was seven years old, and now this.

Greenway waited a second to see whether Rick was done, concluded that he was, and said to Carpington, “Roger, why did this Walker guy come to see you?”

“Like I said, he wanted to know about Stefanie. What happened to her?”

“From what I understand,” Greenway said, “someone broke into her house and killed her. She’d been hit in the head.”

“Oh my God.”

“I know. It’s been a terrible blow for all of us. She was a very special lady. I still can’t believe it’s happened.” He said this all very evenly, as though he’d rehearsed it. Calmly, he asked, “It wasn’t you, was it, Roger? Did you have a bit of a tiff with Stefanie?”

He recoiled in horror. “What? Of course not! It’s not my style to go around hitting people in the head. Or leaving them dead in creeks, for that matter.” Carpington was looking at Rick when he said this. “You said that was going to look like an accident.”

Rick shrugged.

“You said it would look like he’d tripped and hit his head and drowned. But the police say he was murdered, that his head was bashed in before he hit the water. You’re an amateur, you know that?”

Rick said, “Maybe you need a bit more time in the trunk.”

Carpington thought about that. “No. That won’t be necessary. All I’m saying is, it was supposed to be an accident.”

“Water under the bridge, as they say,” said Greenway. “We have to deal with things as they are now, not as we wish they were. The police have been to see me about Mr. Spender, but I can assure you that they don’t think we have anything to do with this. We are businessmen. We don’t handle things that way.”

Carpington swung his head back and forth briefly, as though trying to make the madness go away. He stopped, glared at Greenway accusingly. “Is it standard business practice to take pictures of people when they’re making love?”

“I’m sorry, Roger, what’s that?”