“Yeah, I did. He wasn’t getting a chance to let loose any more rounds.”

The detective backed through his notebook, the inked-up pages making a crackling sound. When he looked up again, he smiled briefly. “Right, okay…so why don’t you try it again and tell me the truth this time. Why were you in that house?”

“I told you—”

“There was salt poured everywhere and incense in the air and the window upstairs in that bedroom had been broken. The sink on the second floor was filled with some kind of solution, and there were empty bottles of things like hydrogen peroxide all over—and the circle drawn on the floor in the middle of that bedroom you were in was also a nice touch. Oh…and you were found with your shirt off and no shoes on, which seems like an odd wardrobe if you were gum-flapping about business. So…although I’m inclined to believe you about the shooting part, because I can trace the paths of bullets as well as the next guy, you’re full of crap about the rest of it.”

Right, pin-drop time.

“I think we should tell him the truth, honey,” Gretchen said.

Vin looked over at her and wondered, Exactly which truth would that be, dear?

“Please do,” the detective said. “And look, I’ll tell you what I believe, if it’ll help. The guy you killed was named Eugene Locke, alias Saul Weaver. He’s a convicted murderer who got out of prison about six months ago. He was renting the house next door and he was obsessed”—the detective nodded at Gretchen—“with you.”

“This is what I can’t understand…why—” Gretchen stopped. “Wait a minute, how do you know that? What did you find at his house?”

The detective looked away from his notes, focusing on a middle ground. “The man had pictures of you.”

“What kind of pictures,” she asked in a flat tone.

As Vin rubbed her hand, the detective met her eyes. “Wide-lens, telephoto stuff.”

“How many.”

“A lot.”

Gretchen’s palm tightened against his. “You find anything else?”

“There was a statue upstairs. One that actually had been reported stolen from St. Patrick’s Cathedral—”

“Oh, my God, the Mary Magdalene,” Gretchen said. “I saw it was missing from the church.”

“That’s the one. And I’m not sure if you noticed or not, but she looks a lot like you.”

Vin struggled with the urge to kill the guy all over again. “Could this Eugene…Saul guy…whatever his name was, be responsible for those deaths and beatings in the alleys?”