Eric the Viking and Nick Something exchanged a meaningful glance. I would have, too, if only there had been someone for me to look at. So instead I peeked at the central head on the altar. It didn't actually wink at me, but I'm sure it was just as amazed as I was.

“That's nuts,” Eric muttered, but he was overrun by Rick Sangre. “Are you willing to let us interview McHale?” Sangre demanded. “With a camera present?”

We were saved from LaGuerta's answer by the arrival of Captain Matthews. He clattered up the stairs and stopped dead as he saw our little art exhibit. “Jesus Christ,” he said. Then his gaze swung to the group of reporters around LaGuerta. “What the hell are you guys doing up here?” he asked.

LaGuerta looked around the room, but nobody volunteered anything. “I let them in,” she said finally. “Unofficially. Off the record.” “You didn't say off the record,” Rick Sangre blurted out. “You just said unofficially.” LaGuerta glared at him. “Unofficially means off the record.” “Get out,” Matthews barked. “Officially and on the record. Out.” Eric the Viking cleared his throat. “Captain, do you agree with Detective LaGuerta that this is a brand-new string of murders, a different killer?” “Out,” Matthews repeated. “I'll answer questions downstairs.” “I need footage,” Rick Sangre said. “It will only take a minute.” Matthews nodded toward the exit. “Sergeant Doakes?”

Doakes materialized and took Rick Sangre's elbow. “Gentlemen,” he said in his soft and scary voice. The three reporters looked at him. I saw Nick Something swallow hard. Then they all three turned without a sound and trooped out.

Matthews watched them go. When they were safely out of earshot he turned on LaGuerta. “Detective,” he said in a voice so venomous he must have learned it from Doakes, “if you ever pull this kind of shit again you'll be lucky to get a job doing parking lot security at Wal-Mart.”

LaGuerta turned pale green and then bright red. “Captain, I just wanted—” she said. But Matthews had already turned away. He straightened his tie, combed his hair back with one hand, and chased down the stairs after the reporters.
I turned to look at the altar again. It hadn't changed, but they were starting to dust for prints now. Then they would take it apart to analyze the pieces. Soon it would all be just a beautiful memory.

I trundled off down the stairs to find Deborah.

Outside, Rick Sangre already had a camera rolling. Captain Matthews stood in the wash of lights with microphones thrusting at his chin, giving his official statement. “. . . always the policy of this department to leave the investigating officer autonomy on a case, until such time as it becomes evident that a series of major errors in judgment call the officer's competence into question. That time has not yet arrived, but I am monitoring the situation closely. With so much at stake for the community—”