She held my eye for a moment and then looked down. She still hadn't touched her shake, which was a shame. They were very good. “I trust you. But I swear to God I don't know why.” She looked up at me, a strange expression flitting back and forth across her face. “And sometimes I really don't think I should, Dexter.”

I gave her my very best reassuring big-brother smile. “Within the next two or three days something new will turn up. I promise.” “You can't know that,” she said. “I know I can't, Deb. But I do know. I really do.” “So why do you sound so happy about it?”

I wanted to say it was because the idea made me happy. Because the thought of seeing more of the bloodless wonder made me happier than anything else I could think of. But of course, that was not a sentiment Deb could really share with me, so I kept it to myself. “Naturally, I'm just happy for you.”

She snorted. “That's right, I forgot,” she said. But at least she took a sip of her shake. “Listen,” I said, “either LaGuerta is right—” “Which means I'm dead and fucked.” “Or LaGuerta is wrong, and you are alive and virginal. With me so far, sis?” “Mmm,” she said, remarkably grumpy considering how patient I was being. “If you were a betting gal, would you bet on LaGuerta being right? About anything?” “Maybe about fashion,” she said. “She dresses really nice.”

The sandwiches came. The waiter dropped them sourly in the middle of the table without a word and whirled away behind the counter. Still, they were very good sandwiches. I don't know what made them better than all the other medianoches in town, but they were; bread crisp on the outside and soft on the inside, just the right balance of pork and pickle, cheese melted perfectly—pure bliss. I took a big bite. Deborah played with the straw in her shake.

I swallowed. “Debs, if my deadly logic can't cheer you up, and one of Relampago's sandwiches can't cheer you up, then it's too late. You're already dead.” She looked at me with her grouper face and took a bite of her sandwich. “It's very good,” she said without expression. “See me cheer up?”

The poor thing was not convinced, which was a terrible blow to my ego. But after all, I had fed her on a traditional Morgan family delight. And I had brought her wonderful news, even if she didn't recognize it as such. If all this had not actually made her smile—well, really. I couldn't be expected to do everything.