I bag them and set them on the nightstand before I glance around the room. There’s a chair in the corner next to a bookshelf. I walk in that direction and study the selection of books. All romances and self-help books. Maybe she was inspired to play Banking the Billionaire from one of these books. I find a journal and it seems a logical place to find out. I open it and find it empty. Apparently, it was a gift she never used or one of those self-help books told her to use it and she just couldn’t get motivated. Maybe she was too busy playing Banking the Billionaire.

Next, I head to the dresser and start digging through the drawers. One drawer, two, three. More. Everything is neatly organized and aside from a vibrator, I find nothing that doesn’t belong. Okay, well I guess that vibrator being beside the bed in the nightstand would be more logical, but maybe that’s just me.

I head into the bathroom, which is small, and quick to search. I bag the few bottles of medications I locate. There’s really nothing more. I reenter the bedroom just as Chief Houston steps into the room, and with his linebacker, fit frame, he shrinks the already tiny room. I give him a quick once over. “Boots and gloves. A rule follower. I guess that’s how you got your title, Chief.”

“I’m certain that’s meant as a jab,” he says dryly. “I’m also certain I don’t want to know what you mean.”

“You’re under forty and the chief for a year now,” I say. “That takes lots of rule following. And I’m actually not insulting you. I’m just thinking how suffocating that must be, always following the rules and yelling at everyone who doesn’t. I sure hope you have someone like me around.”

“I have you right now, like it or not,” he comments dryly, and then eyes Naomi, before glancing at me again. “What’s the story?”

“A near duplication to a murder in the Hamptons.” I motion to the body. “She swallowed something that cut her inside out. I suspect it’s ibuprofen she downed with wine.” I toss the bagged pills on the table. “She also has a similar text message exchange with an unknown person to that of the other victim. ‘One more time for the history books.’ They were playing some game, we think. We’re already working that angle. Assign a detective team I can tolerate. Communicate with Andrew.”

His brow shoots up. “You’re not taking jurisdiction?”

“Considering the killer left me that jar of pig’s blood, I should, but for now, no. I assume Chef Roswell is waiting for me?”

“I recorded him and sent him on his way. He’s an arrogant ass that can’t talk about anything but his food. He’s on standby to come back in.”