“And she didn’t stick around?”

The ghoul shook his head.

Shit.

This marked somewhere around the fifth time Sabrina had had to bail me out of jail. She’d been nagging me about drinking, or more to the point, the things I did when I drank too much. I wasn’t used to this relationship crap and I sure as hell wasn’t used to anyone giving a flying shit about what I did or how much I did it.

Oh well, that was a shit-storm for later.

The ghoul stopped at the end of a long hall and pointed. “The lieutenant’s office is the first door on the right.”

I stuck out my hand. “Good to meet you, Norris.”

He shook my hand with his and my hand disappeared. “Good to meet you as well,” he said, “and please tell Mo’Lock I said hello.”

Before I could say anything he walked away. How the hell did Mo’Lock know him? Fucking ghouls networked better than Hollywood agents.

I walked to the first door. The door was old style with Lieutenant Gretchen Brueger painted in black on the fogged glass. I gave it three quick taps.

From the other side a female voice barked, “Come in!”

I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

I don’t know what I expected, but the young, attractive woman sitting behind the desk was not it. The walls of the office were covered with framed awards and engraved plaques. There was even a key to the city from the mayor. You didn’t have to be Einstein to figure out whoever this Lt. Brueger was, she had punched and crawled her way to the top of the LAPD.

She didn’t know what the hell to make of me. She gave me a quick once-over and then gestured for me to sit. She didn’t offer me her hand.

“Cal McDonald,” she said.

I nodded. I didn’t say anything.

“So how long are you staying in Los Angeles?” She asked. Her tone dripped contempt.

“I moved here.”

“I just read a four-inch-thick file on you,” she raised one of her perfectly plucked eyebrows. “And it looks like you spend a fair amount of time on both sides of the law.”

“If that’s what you want to call it.”

She leaned forward. “You spent the night in a cell. What would you call it?”

“A blackout.” I smiled.

She didn’t.

There was a long, long silence. Almost too long. When I was about to leave, she cleared her throat. I stopped.

“I understand you claim to have dealt with . . . um . . . some unusual things in your life.”

I nodded. “I deal almost exclusively with cases involving the so-called supernatural.”

“So, you don’t believe?”