My shoulder blades prickled at the thought, and I felt a surge of anger that left me light-headed, although as I finally found an empty spot and maneuvered the Honda into place, it occurred to me that the latter might have something to do with the fact that I was running on adrenaline and fumes. After a dinner of beer and pretzels, I needed more than one not-so-fresh hard-boiled egg to keep me going.

Luckily, there was a hot-dog stand on the way to the station. I grabbed a chili-cheese dog and ate it on the go, dodging tourists on the sidewalk. Say what you will, but as far as I’m concerned, while fake cheese sauce may be seven kinds of disgusting, it’s also one of the ultimate hangover foods.

By the time I reached the station and squeezed past the protestors, I felt calmer and more grounded. Yep, I definitely needed food.

If this were a movie, I’d have a chance to watch Cody and the chief interview Mollenkamp in the interrogation room through a one-way mirror before staging a timely intervention, but the Pemkowet Police Department doesn’t have a one-way mirror, or even an interrogation room.

“They’re in the conference room,” Patty Rogan greeted me. “Chief says he’ll send Cody for you when he’s ready.”

“Thanks, Patty.”

She dabbed significantly at the corner of her mouth and gave a discreet nod in the direction of the restroom. “You might want to freshen up first.”

Oh, great. The bathroom mirror revealed a veritable clown smile of chili grease and cheese sauce plastered over my lips. Thank God I’d had a chance to shower earlier, and was no longer sweating out stale beer and twelve-year-old single-malt. I washed my hands and face and rinsed my mouth in the rust-stained porcelain sink.

When I emerged, Cody was waiting for me, his expression somber. “Hey, Daise. This guy’s got some major attitude.”

“Yeah, I know.” I wiped my still-damp palms on my jeans. “He’s not cooperating?”

He shook his head. “He’s denying everything. You and I are trading places. The chief figures it’s time to spring you on him. Ready?”

I touched dauda-dagr’s hilt again. The coolness it radiated was reassuring. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

Inside the conference room, Matthew Mollenkamp was slouched in a chair. Although he looked a little worse for the wear after a hard night of drinking, everything about his body language exuded the same sense of privilege and entitlement. Still, he stiffened perceptibly when I entered the room.

“Hail, true son of Triton,” I said to him. “Nice to see you again.”

His eyelids flickered.

Chief Bryant smiled a slow, sleepy smile. “Well, now, son. I’d like to introduce you to our special associate, Miss Daisy Johanssen. In fact, I believe you may already be acquainted. Are you still inclined to claim you’ve never heard of the Masters of the Universe?”