“Good thinking,” said Lucy. “Actually, it made my dog sick and she had to have an operation.”

“Is she okay?”

“Yeah. She’s recovering nicely, but after all we’ve been through it would be great if you could help me identify this guy. Like I said, the license is all we have to go on.”

“Sorry. I can’t divulge that information.”

“Why not?”

“We only give information like that to law enforcement. It’s a privacy issue.”

“The guy is dead.”

“It’s department policy. I’d get in big trouble.”

Lucy didn’t want Little Miss Boston to get into trouble. “Okay, just one more question. Do you actually have the information from such an old driver’s license on file somewhere?”

“I dunno.”

“Well, thanks for your help.” Why did she keep saying this to people who didn’t help her at all?

“No problem. It was nice talking to you. I hope the dog’s okay.”

Lucy got the last word. “Have a nice day,” she said.

“That didn’t sound as if you meant it,” said Phyllis, whose long nails, painted magenta today with a scattering of glitter to match her harlequin reading glasses, were clicking against the keyboard.

“I didn’t,” grumbled Lucy. “It was classic passive-aggressive behavior. I wanted to wring her unhelpful little neck.”

“So much hostility and so early in the morning, too,” clucked Phyllis. “You should try to have a more positive attitude.”

“That’s what my exercise coach says,” muttered Lucy, reaching for the phone. Seeing Phyllis’s eyebrows shoot up she offered a quick explanation. “Fun and Fitness with Debbie every morning.”

Amazingly, Barney was actually at his desk in the police station. Lucy had seen it, a cluttered monument to disorganization, and understood why he tried to avoid it.

“Cruiser’s in the shop,” he explained. “Brake linings.” He sighed a long sigh. “I’m catching up on paperwork.”

“I’m sorry,” said Lucy. “Would you like a diversion?”

“Not if it will get me into trouble.”

“No trouble at all. I just want you to run a Massachusetts driver’s license for me. I think it belongs to the homeless guy. In fact, I’ll even give it to you and you can get credit for identifying him.”

“So who is he?”

“That’s the thing. I don’t know. All that’s left is his photo and the number. No name or address.”

“Where’d you find it?”

“In the woods. The dog actually found it, in an old wallet. She ate most of the wallet and the license, too. She had to have surgery.”

“Gee, that’s quite a story. But how do you know it belonged to the homeless guy?”

“Trust me. I’ve got a real strong hunch.”

“Okay, come on down,” said Barney.

He was chatting with the dispatcher when Lucy got to the station and promptly escorted her into an interview room. “It’s more private here,” he said.