The chief leaned forward, an alert glint kindling behind his deceptively sleepy gaze. “Which are?”

Wilkes slid a piece of paper across the conference table. “Ichthyologist’s report on the scales found under the vic’s fingernails. Says he’s never seen anything like it. Says the closest living relative would be the coelacanth. You know what that is?”

“Yeah,” Cody said. “I watch the Discovery Channel. It’s a prehistoric fish, right?”

“Right.”

I shivered.

The chief drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “We’re not talking about a hobbyist’s aquarium here, are we?”

Lost in reverie, I didn’t hear the reply. My thoughts chased one another. I examined all the pieces of the puzzle.

Jerry Dunham, the dead-eyed former carny from Seattle, his connection to Dr. Midnight’s Traveling Sideshow, and his collection of expensive vintage motorcycles. Matthew Mollenkamp, Van Buren slacker alumnus extraordinaire and self-proclaimed Master of the Universe and true son of Triton. A pair of ghouls in love, locked in an unsustainable loop of closed feedback, requiring a hostage to survive. A dead boy, a callow young man drowned in salt water, with a bellyful of booze, scratches on his back, and impossible fish scales lodged under his nails.

My own words, echoing Lurine in the car. But you’re right. It all comes down to sex.

It so often does, cupcake.

One by one, the pieces of the puzzle fell into place like cards. Mom had told me it was likely the reading was unusually literal. I should have seen it before. According to rumor, Dr. Midnight’s circus had one true thing—one true thing that fulfilled the requirements of Triton House.

La Sirena, upside down. An alluring woman in distress, that was my mom’s interpretation. But the card didn’t just depict an ordinary woman. It depicted a woman with a scaled fishtail bobbing in the saltwater sea.

In other words, it depicted a freaking mermaid. It had been right in front of me the whole time.

I inhaled sharply. “It’s a mermaid. We’re looking for a mermaid.”

All three men stared at me.

“It fits,” I said impatiently. “It fits with what Lurine and I learned at Triton House last night. That whole Masters of the Universe thing, it’s about having sex with an immortal, preferably of the aquatic variety. That’s how you get to become a Master of the Universe and a true son of Triton. Mollenkamp admitted as much. He tried to play it off like Thad drowned trying to seduce a naiad, but he was lying.”

“Miss Johanssen . . .” Detective Wilkes seemed at a loss for words.

I threw up my hands. “Is it any more unlikely than a coelacanth?”

“No,” he admitted. “But I’m telling you, we’ve been looking into this, and there’s no one in the area with an aquarium that size. It’s not something you can hide easily. They require maintenance and upkeep.”