The tough guy on the driver’s side straightened, formed a pistol with his right hand, and pantomimed a shot at Woolsey. Then he drumslapped the car’s hood several times with his palms, and swaggered off after his buddies.

As Slidel stormed toward us two cruisers pul ed in behind the Taurus. Woolsey and I got out of the car.

“Detective Slidel , I’d like you to meet Detective Woolsey,” I said.

Woolsey stuck out a hand. Slidel ignored it.

Woolsey held the proffered hand in the air between them. In my peripheral vision I saw Rinaldi emerge from the Taurus and stick-walk toward us.

“This the detective you’re talking about?” Slidel jammed a thumb toward Woolsey. His face was raspberry and a vein in his forehead was pumping a gusher.

“Calm down or you’re going to blow a valve,” I said.

“Since when do you give a rat’s ass about my valves?”

Slidel turned his scowl on Woolsey.

“You’re on the job?”

“Lancaster.”

“You’ve got no jurisdiction here.”

“Absolutely none.”

That seemed to disarm him some. As Rinaldi joined us, Slidel gave Woolsey’s hand a perfunctory shake. Then Rinaldi and Woolsey shook.

“What’s your interest here?” Slidel yanked out a hanky and did one of his face mops.

“Dr. Brennan and I were having breakfast. You know. Catching up. She asked for transportation to this location.”

“That’s it?”

“That’l do for now.”

“Uh-huh.” Slidel swiveled to me. “Where’s Tyree?”

I indicated the house behind the black Lexus.

“You’re sure it’s Tyree.”

“It’s Tyree. He went in about fifteen minutes ago.”

“I’l send backup to the rear,” Rinaldi said.

Slidel nodded. Rinaldi walked to the second cruiser. He and the driver exchanged words, then the cruiser reversed up the block and disappeared around the corner.

“Here’s what you two are going to do.” Slidel bunched the hanky and shoved it into a back pocket.

“You’re going to get into this nice lady detective’s Chevrolet, and you’re going to drive away. Go to a nail salon. Go to a yoga class. Go to a bake sale at the Methodist church. I don’t care. But I want plenty of geography between you and this place.” Woolsey folded her arms, the muscles in her face rigid with anger.

“Look, Slidel ,” I said. “I’m sorry if I bruised your delicate sense of propriety. But Darryl Tyree is in that house. Tamela Banks and her family may be with him. Or they may be dead. In either case, Tyree may be able to lead us to them. But only if we nail his ass.”

“I never would have thought of that.” Slidel ’s voice dripped sarcasm.

“Think about it,” I snapped.

“Look,DoctorBrennan, I was busting scum while you were stil changing pumps on your Barbies!”

“You didn’t break any land-speed records finding Tyree!”