I first met Alexis a week after I started working for Bill. One of her contacts had told her there was a new woman PI in town, and she’d come along to try to persuade me into a profile in the paper. I’d refused, not wanting to run the risk of being recognized on the job. But we’d hit it off, and over the years she’d become the kind of friend I could go shopping with and count on to tell me when an outfit made me look like a candidate for Crufts. And her

But this morning, she wasn’t interested in my latest discoveries in skin care. She was being professional. Her untamable mop of thick black hair was growing more unruly by the minute as she ran one hand through it while taking notes with the other. After half an hour, she knew almost as much about the Smarts as I did.

The surprise of her news had worn off, and I’d begun to feel sorry for Billy and Gary. OK, they’d been villains, but they hadn’t been the kind of villains who cause individuals pain. They hadn’t been burglars, or armed robbers or killers. They hadn’t deserved to die like that just for ripping off a few big companies who would barely notice the hole in their balance sheets. I said as much to Alexis, albeit off the record.

“Yeah, I know. We’re going to run a reaction piece about the number of people who die as a result of police chases. It’s well out of order. Mind you, I think I’m going to have to give Richard a warning,” Alexis added, her blue eyes giving a twinkle as she smiled. I swear she practices that twinkle in front of the mirror to charm cops and victims of crime alike.

“A warning? What about?”

“Well, there seems to be a lot of death and destruction hanging around you these days.” Alexis lit a Silk Cut and blew a plume of smoke over her shoulder. She’s always had interesting manners.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lied. I drained my polystyrene cup of coffee-flavored dishwater and tried to look innocent.

“Come on, supersleuth. It’s me you’re talking to. Everybody knows you’re working on Moira Pollock’s murder. I’ll admit, I was surprised to find you off your usual white-collar beat, but then I heard on the grapevine that it was you that found the body. Care to go on the record about it?” Alexis’s voice was offhand, but her eyes were hard.

I shook my head. “No way. Sorry. I can’t even confirm what you’ve just suggested, on or off the record.”

Alexis shrugged. “Oh well, it was worth a try. We’ll just have to make do with Neil Webster’s copy. Not that I’ve any complaints on