“Okay, then, I need you to meet me in front of my house in around five minutes.” I threw down my butt and ground it out with my heel.

The ghoul nodded. “I’ll be there.”

“Cool.”

I started walking back toward my place. The ghoul followed me for about half a block and then disappeared into an alley.

I arrived before the ghoul did, as I’d hoped. The Feds were still on my tail, but they dropped back when I reached my place. I guess they were going to stake me out. No problem. That’s what I wanted.

I went up to my house and grabbed a file out of the cabinet, then went back outside. Mo’Lock was there, waiting. He smiled when he saw me. A ghoul smiling is even creepier than one frowning. It just isn’t right.

I walked up to him, holding the fake file out in the open, and handed it to him.

“I want you to take this and walk to the freeway overpass. Walk to the middle of bridge, stop, pretend to scan the papers in the file, and then throw the whole thing over the edge. That should fuck with them.”

Mo’Lock looked a little confused, but he nodded. “Whatever you say, Cal,” he said and walked off.

I went back inside and ran to the back window. I climbed out then crept along the wall back to the front of the house. The Feds were gone. They fell for it. They were following Mo’Lock now.

I strolled back inside. I took the file and hid it by separating the sheets of paper, rolling them and stuffing them into the shower curtain rod in the bathroom. That would do it. Stupid Feds.

I was feeling pretty damn pleased with myself despite having done zilch on the case.

Then there was a knock at my door.

I grabbed my revolver.

“Who’s there?” I said, pointing the gun at the wood just where a chest would be.

“It’s me, Brueger. Open the fucking door.” She was whispering.

I opened the door as she pushed past. She was out of breath, but wasted no time. She turned to me, panting and waving her finger at me.

I looked her over. “You okay?”

“I’ll tell you, I thought I was nuts bringing you onto this case but look at this.” She held up a crumpled fax printout. “The computer came up with three accident-related decapitations. Three!”

“I thought it would,” I said. I was lying. It was a shot in the dark. Most detective work is, despite what people claim.

“Yeah, well pat your fuckin’ back later. Listen, the first one is as recent as two months ago, and guess what?” She eyed me, grinning.

“Ooo, I’m breathless.”

“You were involved.”

“Wha—?”